Death Song
by Shangri-La
Summary: Not even Legato knew he had a son, and when he turns up on Vash and Knives' doorstep, beaten half to death, he carries with him the secret of the death song, a melody that plays before a plant is brutally murdered - and only he can hear it. EPILOGUE ADDED
1. It's not a bounty hunter

*I died a long, long time ago...*  
  
Legato's pale lips lifted in a grim, heart-wrenching smile, the creamy white of his skin as his face drained of color contrasting to the darkness all around him. Panicked. Calm. Waiting. Ghost-like in his anxiousness, he was almost pleading for demise with that look in his golden eyes, but, bit by bit, he was fading away in an excruciatingly slow death. However, beneath that gloomy exterior, there was a rapidly beating heart, and even as he seemed to be disappearing from existence itself, that sorrowful smirk and gleaming, aureate eyes remained.  
  
Vash felt like he was crushing that fragile life before him even as he just stood there, motionless, the gun clasped in his shaky hands.  
  
*Killing me is not an act of cruelty, but one of release...*  
  
The blonde plant was trembling all over now, shivers of fear coursing through his body. A churning sensation in the pit of his stomach started up with a vengeance, and a bead of sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose, slide off to the side, and traveled down his cheek in a hot, sticky path.  
  
*You're my last hope, Vash the Stampede. If you can give me nothing else, just let me indulge in this. Please. I...I want to be...free.*  
  
All this time, the human with the normally sun-baked skin, the frighteningly beautiful orbs of gold, and long, lean body of grace and power, had been kneeling in front of Vash, his heavy white coat seeming to be dragging drown his strong, broad shoulders, dark aqua hair shaggily covering part of his face in a messy gesture of defeat. And now, a sound like thunder shook the broad expanse of inky blackness and although Vash was visibly unsettled by the sensations bombarding his senses, Legato remained perfectly controlled.  
  
*This is the way it should be.*  
  
Legato's body suddenly stiffened as the two of them were plummeted into darkness, and when the spiraling confusion came to an end and the dim light had returned, Vash gasped and stumbled back. Blood was pouring down the front of Legato's face in a thick, warm, pulsing trail, over his forehead, to the side, down his jowl, and dripping from his chin. And still he was smiling.  
  
*Th-thank you, Humanoid Typhoon.*  
  
And Legato fell forward, face down, into the cold murkiness beneath their feet, and lay still, bleeding his life away until the calm of death overtook him.  
  
Vash lowered his gaze, mind spinning intensely, and realized that he was standing in a puddle of the scarlet life fluid, which he quickly lifted his foot out of in a dizzy panic. He felt sick to his stomach, like he was going to throw up, but as he tried to back away, tried to escape, he only managed to slip and fall, being further covered in the blood.  
  
And as he screamed, everything began to spin out of control.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Vash woke up, the shriek of horror still leaving his mouth, and quickly drew in another lungful of air as he sat up rapidly. Knives, just across the room at the typewriter, writing away furiously, didn't even turn around to face him as he went through the calming down process, gasping and wheezing.  
  
"'Nother nightmare, Vashu?"  
  
"...yes." His blue-green eyes bored into the back of his twin. "What are you doing? That's Meryl's typewriter." There was a dangerous edge to normally gentle Vash's voice. To him, that old, outdated typewriter was near sacred. No one, NO ONE, was allowed to use it lest it wear out or get broken.  
  
Knives, wearing nothing save his black sweatpants, was bringing his fingers down upon the keys with such a roughness that Vash winced each time one 'plunked' down painfully. Still continuing to pound upon the letters, he casually answered, "I didn't feel like writing by hand. Stormie is coming back tomorrow."  
  
Vash sighed hopelessly. His brother had not been talking to the female plant since their big blowout over who ate the last apple in the refrigerator. For the last few months, they had been communicating through little notes and letters, most short, angry, and sarcastic.  
  
Vash wasn't about to confess he had eaten the apple.  
  
As for Stormie returning home, she had been away on vacation along with a little side trip to a friend's house for some 'equipment'. Stormie was skilled in the medical profession, and had come to them shortly after hearing of Vash housing an injured Knives nearly twenty years ago, only three days after their gun fight.  
  
That was how Legato died...  
  
Vash shivered and flopped back down, recalling his dream. It was a frequently occurring vision that haunted him nearly every time he closed his eyes. He just couldn't help it. Legato was the first person he had killed after his preaching of 'love and peace'.  
  
Knives yelled something obscene as one of the keys on the typewriter rebelled beneath his angry finger, refusing to rise once more.  
  
"Knives!" Vash cried in distress, his voice high and whiny. "You broke Meryl's typewriter! That's why you're not supposed to touch it!"  
  
Knives spun his chair around to face him, face blank and eyes slightly puzzled. For the longest time, he merely stared back at the accusing glare. "Sorry."  
  
Vash sighed. Knives would never understand what Meryl had meant to Vash, and how much it pained him when she had left, her last words sticking with him even twenty years later.  
  
*We're different, Vash. You'll stay young while I grow old... You don't want that and neither do I. It'd just be too hard. I think...I think it's best if we just go our own ways before things get too serious and someone gets hurt.*  
  
Knives was back at pounding on the keys again, grumbling to himself. The sound of paper scraping against metal registered in Vash's ears as his brother ripped out the letter and then crumpled it up, tossing it into the wastebasket.  
  
Clack-plink-clack-clickety-clack-plunk-clack...  
  
Vash fell asleep listening to the noise and trying not to remember when Meryl used to be up all night, causing the same sort of racket.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Vash the Stampede!"  
  
"Stormie the Dark Cloud!" he teased back, picking up the tall woman and spinning her around as she giggled, arms around his neck. Her bags remained forgotten at their feet, and Vash promptly tripped over them as the couple ended up sprawled out on the ground in a tangle of limbs, she on top with one arm trapped beneath his back and the other hand resting on his chest, and he beneath her with her long, white-blonde hair spilling across his face and into his mouth as he laughed loudly.  
  
"Gee, Stormie, you feel heavier. Didja gain weight?" he chuckled, spitting out the silky strands and leaving them wet and stringy with his saliva.  
  
"Hmm...no more than you did, it feels like," she said mock-seriously, patting his stomach with a grim smile. "Lay off the donuts, why don't you?"  
  
Knives snorted from where he stood in the doorway of their small house just on the outskirts of town, the building just a flower garden short of a cottage with its wooden walls and flat roof. It would've had a thatched roof for a more homey feel, but Knives had insisted that was impractical, though he had allowed the small, square windows with white shutters that could be swung open to display a perfect view.  
  
Stormie lived next door, in what seemed to resemble a garage. It looked very small on the outside, but had the largest basement Vash had ever imagined. Outside sat a little garden gnome and a marble fountain that was never filled with water, but rather with sand and plastic salmon. Stormie had a weird sense of humor that Knives more often than not didn't appreciate.  
  
"Pick up my bags, Forks! I'm home!" she commanded, winking at the other plant with a powder blue eye that always held a mischievous glint. She then collapsed into laughter, still lying entwined with Vash, when Knives cast her a disgusted look and stalked inside.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Sometimes, Stormie reminded Vash of Millie. She could be just as ditzy and naive, and other times she was the picture of, well, no one Vash could ever imagine. He found her doing such weird things. Like the time she just sat out in her yard all day with a bucket of watery glue, chicken wire, and old paper.  
  
"What are you doing?" he had asked.  
  
"Making a paper mache donkey."  
  
"Oh."  
  
That was just one of several instances, many of which he would not get into, and she had started many a project only to get bored after a few hours or so and never even look its way again. But she was a very good doctor who treated only plants, being one herself, which limited her patients to Vash, Knives, and herself. Her origin was quite unknown to everyone save herself, and she wouldn't budge on her policy of never revealing that secret.  
  
It was dark now, and the wind was getting pretty rough outside, whistling through the cracks of the walls and beating upon the roof. Stormie was curled up in an armchair in the corner and Knives was sitting at the table with a magazine, dully flipping through.  
  
Vash, who had been in the kitchen, returned with a chocolate pudding and handed it to the deeply tanned female plant, causing her pale azure eyes to widen and grow glossy in appreciation. "Oh, Mr. Vash!" she cried in a dead on impression of Milly, who she had met but a few times and declared to be the most delightful person in the world. Ever since then, she had been imitating the woman, saying childishly, "I want to be just like her when I grow up!"  
  
Vash had to laugh and admit to himself that he really enjoyed it when Stormie took on the part of the now absent Milly. How he missed that girl. And Wolfwood too. They would've been so good together, and he would've loved to have seen them get married, have children, eat dinner with them and reminisce over old times. If only...if only he hadn't died.  
  
He sometimes spent hours pondering over where the two insurance girls had gone to, and where they were now. Meryl, crying, had insisted as they parted that there be no communication because it'd only make things harder. She said she loved him, it just couldn't be.  
  
"Vash, will you please tell Mr. Forks that I am sick of his obsessing over me so he should stop writing that letter right now."  
  
"Vash, will you please tell Stomie this letter isn't for her."  
  
"Stormie, Knives says he loves you very much."  
  
"I did not!"  
  
Vash and Stormie only shared more laughter over poor Knives' embarrassment. The two had instantly clicked, which only led to more and more pain for the poor man.  
  
A loud, insistent pounding against the door, like someone throwing their whole body into it, boomed throughout the semi-quiet room and shut up both the goofy outlaw and his partner in crime.  
  
"Someone's at the door," said Knives quietly, setting down his pen but making no move to get up. "They don't sound happy."  
  
"Yikes!" Vash had already dove behind a couch. "It's a bounty hunter! They're coming for me,. Knives!"  
  
"Don't be a moron. Get the door."  
  
The knocking had stopped now, but it did nothing to quiet Vash's fears. He was still shivering behind the furniture.  
  
Stormie got up, looking a bit concerned herself, and walked slowly over to the door, laying her fingers upon the knob. She was aware of Knives' eyes trained icily on her back, and then pushed on, swinging the door wide open.  
  
Hunched over on the stoop was a man, his lean body curled up into a pitiful, trembling ball, his back to the wall. A mop of black hair hung into his face and was sticky and matted with blood, as were his clothes, which were equally dark and afforded to his looking as if he was melting away into the shadows. He looked badly beaten, so much that it took her breath away.  
  
"Guys," she said shakily, quietly. "I...well, it's not a bounty hunter."  
  
Vash hopped up and walked timidly over, a jolt of shock surging through his body as he saw the condition of their visitor. And then, the young man raised wide, terrified, golden eyes, tortured and full of pain to the couple standing there. Blood was coursing down his forehead between the creamy ochroid globes, and as he locked gazes with Vash, he smiled, faintly. And then he went limp and fell into an unconscious pile at Vash's feet.  
  
Stormie looked at the taller man in confusion.  
  
"Legato...?"  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Well, I hope you liked this. Reviews make me write faster, and if you have any advice, be sure to tell me.  
  
~Shangri-La~ 


	2. It is a nightmare

Springtime!! I just love spring! Warm weather, green grass, wardrobe change... Haha. Enough rambling about the weather. Sorry it took me so long to post this chapter. I was busy.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Vash's eyes widened slightly as Stormie laid her hand to the panel on the dark wall, just inside the confines of her garage-like house. It always amazed him when those double doors slid apart to reveal a flight of stairs, which they quickly set to hurrying down, only to arrive in a gigantic room filled to the brim with priceless medical technology. Stormie's basement, also an underground hospital.  
  
Knives, who had their young, bloodied visitor slung over his shoulder, straightened a bit and grunted, "Where do I put him?"  
  
Stormie pointed to a nearby bed with raised walls on all sides even as she pulled on a white lab coat. "There. So, Vash, do you know who this is?" She was now wrestling with her thin, latex gloves.  
  
"Well, he looks like...like Legato, don't you think Knives?"  
  
Knives was towering over the man, who was now spread out on the bed, unconscious and looking to be dead. His clothes were soaked with blood and his face was deathly pale, mouth gaping open with head rolled back on the pillow. And indeed, he resembled Legato closely, right down to the lean, toned muscle of his body and curve of his high cheekbones. His nose was long, aristocratic, and slightly upturned, and the way his eyes were shaped, the length of their lashes... Even the fullness of his lips and the way his dark, chocolate colored hair was short and shaggily cut, draping over a golden eye made for a close resemblance to the other man.  
  
"He could be Legato," Knives murmured wistfully. "I'd even believe he was - if it wasn't impossible. And if he wasn't missing a scar right here..." Knives hand tipped up the look-alike's chin to reveal a long, graceful neck, and his thumb trailed down to the collar bone. "Legato had a horrible scar here. From a suicide attempt."  
  
"Well...it's uncanny, the way they look alike," Vash commented, walking over. He then did a double-take. "Whoa, he's in bad shape. Is he gonna be ok?"  
  
"I dunno. Take off his shirt and we'll see what's bleeding so much." Stormie skipped over, completely unaware she was in a dire situation, and clucked her tongue at what she saw once the article of clothing had been cast aside. Scarlet fluid was gushing from a tear in his side, the skin near shredded. "Well," she said, sobering, "we have our work ahead of us."  
  
~~~~~  
  
"I think I'll name him Yo-yo." Vash had been paying close attention to the near comatose figure that lay in Stormie's basement, a figure in a never- changing state. In fact, after getting off work everyday (he supported the 'family' since Knives refused to work and Stormie was near incapable in her eccentricity), he would march over to the underground lab, sandwich in hand, and keep close watch over the injured soul. One would've thought he was guarding him from the way he was overseeing things so intensely.  
  
"Yo-yo is not a good name," argued Knives, scribbling down furiously on a piece of paper and then handing it to Stormie with a scowl.  
  
She read it slowly, then raised hurt, wavering eyes. "Vash...do you think I'm fat?"  
  
"Don't listen to him, Stormie. He thinks everyone is fat because he's 'perfect'." Vash placed sarcastic emphasis on the last word. It always amazed him how Stormie took everything Knives told her so incredibly seriously and reacted to it as if it had been a great emotional blow. Already, Vash knew Stormie was destined to spend the rest of the week walking around and slamming doors, screaming over how 'fat' she was.  
  
Well, she wasn't fat. Just a little plump. Cute, really.  
  
Stormie turned her attention back to the monitor before her, tapping in some information and reading the outcome. She was very involved in her work when she became aware of Vash stooped over slightly before the bed, his hands pressed to the glass covering that she had slid into place to keep the injured man at the temperature she wanted, among other things.  
  
"He's starting to tremble," Vash murmured, fascinated even as his breath fogged up the glass.  
  
It was true. The man was starting to shake, badly. His teeth had clenched and he appeared to be gripping the bed sheets, his body shaking as if he was in terrible pain.  
  
"Do you think he's having a nightmare?" asked Knives, an aloofness in his voice making it sound like he could care less.  
  
"Don't know," replied Stormie in a low murmur, forgetting her vow not to respond to him whatsoever. "I...I don't know what's wrong with him."  
  
"It is a nightmare," confirmed Vash slowly. "I can tell. Look at how tight he has his eyes shut. He's trying to...to get out or something." The blonde's eyebrows drew together in mixed confusion and concern, and then jumped back apart in shock as he swung away from the bed. The man had tried to bolt into a sitting position, only to smack his head smartly on the glass. He fell back onto the mattress and twisted around onto his stomach like a wounded animal, trying to drag himself along, clawing at the sheets and screaming, struggling against an invisible enemy. But he never opened his eyes.  
  
Stormie watched gravely until she saw that he would injure himself in the long run, and in turn pushed a button on her control panel. A foggy gas poured into the coffin-like bed, and as soon as he breathed in, his body seemed to be rendered motionless. There he lay, turned on his side, one arm stretched out before him with the fingers curled in pitifully, and the other pinned beneath his own body. For just a moment, his golden eyes opened, glazed, and he stared impassively at Vash. And then he breathed in deeply again and passed out once more.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Grayfall, at eighteen, liked to sit on the second story of the old warehouse, perching himself in the battered window seat by the broken pane of glass that let cool air come in. And at night, he liked to just sit there and reflect on his childhood, like when he had been a little boy asking about his father - where he was, who he was, why he wasn't there, ect....  
  
His mother, a maid at a hotel, would always tell him the same thing. "Your father was a very, very strong man. But it seemed like everything in the universe was against him. Sometimes, he said I was his only friend in the world, and then he'd just break down and cry, sobbing about how sorry he was. I - I never knew the details of his private life, because I couldn't get him to make much sense whenever he'd actually open up. But he was so good to me, Grayfall. He broke his back trying to make life easier for me. Every night he could get away, he'd come to this hotel and he'd always bring me something... Food, money, even a piece of jewelry or clothing sometimes. And then he'd just fall asleep in one of the rooms, whichever was free, and I would sit and watch him. A lot of the times, he was in pretty bad shape - like someone had beat him up. I begged him to not go back to wherever it was he went, and sometimes he'd listen, but only for a few days, and during that time that he was with me, he was miserable, like a wild bird I had caged and would not release even though he longed to be free. I didn't know what to do with him..."  
  
Grayfall would nod his head from where he usually sat on the stool at the diner, a small restaurant on the first floor of the shabby hotel. "But that doesn't tell me anything..." he would murmur, his thirteen-year-old mind trying to put two and two together.  
  
"Well," his mother would snap back as she hefted up a heavy tray on her shoulder and grasped a coffee pot in the other hand, "I'm not going to tell you everything. But I will tell you this. He loved me very much, and I loved him. We were all the other had most of the time. One day, he just...disappeared. He had told me he was going to return." Tears would well up in her eyes, making them glitter prettily, and her voice broke. "He promised...he promised he'd come back and never leave again...but he just couldn't. He just...couldn't."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Grayfall Bluesummers," she berated him in a sniffle, wiping at her eyes desperately and smearing her mascara in the process. "You know I haven't the faintest."  
  
When Grayfall sat at that broken window, and when he thought about when he was young, he felt very desolate, and very alone. But it was better than being with HIM.  
  
"Hey, Gray," hissed a voice, and he closed his eyes against it, trying to shut it out, ignore it. "Come here. I have something I want to show you."  
  
"Leave me alone," he commanded the telepath.  
  
And then he was being yanked out of his seat by his hair, screaming in pain, fighting against the invisible hands that held him captive. A face leered at him, the telepath that controlled every aspect of his life taunting him with his smile. Grayfall was now standing before the taller, broader man, looking up at him in hatred and annoyance.  
  
"Grayfall Bluesummers," the man said in a strange accent that enunciated certain syllables in a nonsensical pattern, his voice nasal. "You don't listen well. And no matter what I do to you, you are not afraid, and not obedient, making you nothing like your father."  
  
He shrugged. It was true. He'd been near killed a million times, but he just couldn't make himself fear the other man unless he was being struck. And what was all this talk about his father? He just didn't care about that either.  
  
"Come with me," said the man, leading him down the steps and into a room on the first floor. This telepath, who went by the name of Naoshi, seemed ageless and beautiful. His skin was such a pale color, especially when tinted by moonlight, it appeared to be porcelain, and his eyes were an entirely different matter. One was a clear, sapphire blue whilst the other had been tinted a strange amethyst, the purple color striking against his face, which was delicately featured as well. Naturally white, pin-straight hair draped elegantly upon his shoulders and cascaded against his face. Thin and tall and with hands that possessed amazingly long fingers, this telepathic assassin had been raising him ever since the death of his mother three years ago. In reality, he was trying to train Grayfall, but the stubborn personality of teen was proving it to be hard.  
  
Now standing inside the a small, relatively dim room, Grayfall gazed with interest at the woman huddled in a corner. Willowy, blonde, and trembling in fear as she hugged her knees to her chest, she returned his avid gaze with fear and bitterness, seeming to be teetering between life and death with all the blood that had caked on her pale skin, her torn clothes. The way she breathed, the air rattling in her throat, reminded him of a wild creature that had been shot or speared or something of the like.  
  
"I want you to kill her," said Naoshi calmly.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because she is a plant, and it will be good practice for you."  
  
"A plant, huh?" Grayfall murmured. "What do you have against them?"  
  
"Without them, this world would be a better place. They are different. They are too powerful. And I hate them."  
  
"So...you're afraid of them?"  
  
"Grayfall, if I feared these creatures, I would not have killed as many of them as I already have. Go ahead. We're all waiting."  
  
Grayfall hesitantly took the knife handed to him and winced. "Can't I use a gun?"  
  
"I want this to be close and personal."  
  
He nodded his understanding and approached the creature still huddled in a little ball at the far end of the room, completely defenseless. Trying to control his steps, attempting to look calm even as he began to sweat, he came to an uncertain stop before his victim and crouched down to observe her further. Their gazes locked. Blue. Deep. Sad. She had the most soulful eyes he had ever seen.  
  
"Well?" Naoshi was getting impatient.  
  
Grayfall felt sick to his stomach. Shakily, he whispered, "I can't do it..."  
  
A bullet whistled past his left ear and embedded itself deep into the plant's chest, soon followed by another, and another. The blood exploded upon a horrified Grayfall's face, and he flinched repeatedly, eyes wide and blank, taking it all in with deathly silence. She slumped onto the ground and he jumped to his feet to back away.  
  
Naoshi was behind him, immediately shoving him forward so that he stumbled and fell, hands instinctively shooting out to stop himself from falling. As a result, the right slid straight through the woman's stomach, through the giant slash, through all the blood...  
  
He tried to pull it out, but Naoshi kicked him in the ribcage, and he collapsed again with a gasp, coming to lie directly on top of the dying plant. It was in such a position that he watched the life drain away from her.  
  
But Naoshi wasn't finished. He began to yell, to scream, to express his anger through violence. Jerking the other man to his feet, he began to beat him like he never had before, to drive his fists into his face, his gut, and to fight dirty with no reserve. Grayfall never even stood a chance, and when he fell to the ground, Naoshi followed, straddling his waist and lacing long, thin fingers around his neck in an attempt to choke him to death, or so it seemed.  
  
Grayfall cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks and blood marring his vision. Blood. Blood was everywhere. He tried to twist and writhe away, but was held steadfast, and the pain...the pain was so incredible it made him dizzy.  
  
A fog started to set in. He guessed that it was unconsciousness overtaking him, and he wondered if he would ever awaken. His body already felt sapped of every ounce of strength, and as he fell motionless, eyes sliding shut, he felt as if his spirit was sinking right out of his body.  
  
A few moments passed. He felt compelled to open his eyes again. He wondered how long he had been asleep, and how much pain he would be in when he awoke. Fuzzy blurs greeted him when he first peered out into the world, and then he saw a face. Not Naoshi, but someone else. It was a man - blonde and fair-skinned and long-faced... His eyes were blue.  
  
Was he a plant? He looked familiar.  
  
Before he could properly ponder over this, he drifted off to sleep once more.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Don't worry, in the next chapter, Grayfall and Vash and the others will actually interact. If you have any ideas, just tell me, and as always, review. 


	3. The Melody

Stormie called Vash at three in the morning after the little trauma with their visitor's obvious nightmare. The first ring went unnoticed by him, but not by Knives, and by the time he woke up, his brother had fallen out of his bed across the room and was crawling blindly towards the night stand. The third ring went by and Vash didn't move.  
  
"Vash," Knives growled sleepily, "I swear, if you don't pick up that phone, I will kill you once I can get my eyes open!"  
  
By this time, there had been five rings and he slammed his hand down upon the annoying noisemaker. It took him a while, but he was finally able to grasp and lift it from the cradle, bringing it to the side of his face not buried in the pillow. "Hello?" he croaked.  
  
"V-Vash?" whispered a voice. Female. Deeper. Ah...it was Stormie. But her voice was shaking, and she sounded rather frightened.  
  
"Something wrong, Stormie?" he drowsily mumbled.  
  
"Y-yeah. I'm - I'm really scared!" she hissed, and he could just picture her curled up in her room, near the phone jack, blue eyes wide and full of terror. It melted his heart. Poor girl. She usually didn't call without good reason, so something must really be getting to her.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"I think our friend has escaped... I heard this crash from downstairs, and then this horrible screaming! It was like someone was trying to kill him or something down there! I locked my door and I'm too scared to go check out what's going on in the basement. Will you and Knives come over?"  
  
"Sure. Just hold tight - we'll hurry." He hung up quickly and jumped out of bed, commanding, "Knives, put some pants on! We're going over to Stormie's!"  
  
"Why?" he demanded, watching with narrowed eyes as Vash, who slept in brown sweatpants and was therefore halfway dressed already, pulled on a white T- shirt with long, blue sleeves. "And can't you go alone?"  
  
"No! She's really scared! And she asked for you, too."  
  
That softened Knives' ice blue eyes, just a bit, and he frowned. Stormie had not requested to see him since - forever. "Alright," he said quietly, picking up a pair of blue jeans to pull on over his black boxers. "I'll go."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
When Stormie let them in at the front door, she greeted them with a sheepish grin and a baseball bat in hand. "Hey, guys, thanks for coming. He's quieted down a lot." She paused. "Hope he didn't kill himself down there."  
  
Knives, who was eager to be the big hero, squared his shoulders and boldly declared, "I'll go downstairs to see what he is doing. Vash, stay here with Stormie, just in case something happens." And with a nod, he marched on over to the elevator, stepped inside, and punched in his destination. The doors slid shut and he disappeared.  
  
Stormie batted her eyes girlishly, mock-swooning, "Oh, my hero!" She then giggled and elbowed Vash. "Hey, who is he trying to impress?"  
  
"You, as odd as that seems."  
  
"Hmm. Hope he comes back alive."  
  
"Really?" Vash smiled. "Me too."  
  
~~~~~  
  
The basement was very dark, and it took Knives a while to locate the light switch, which, needless to say, made him a bit edgy. But, after several fumbling attempts, he was able to flip the switch and bring forth a brilliant light that almost blinded him after being in the dark so long. He grunted and took a good look around.  
  
The bed, where the stranger had slept, was stripped of the sheets. The glass covering that had been above it had shattered, sending splinters of glass all over the floor, many tipped with blood, like he had smashed through with his own two hands. He probably had.  
  
Many a thing was destroyed in that laboratory; vials had been shattered, liquids of assorted colors were spilt here and there...  
  
Cautiously, Knives ventured further into the expanse of the room, looking this way and that for the man that shared Legato's appearance, but he was no where in sight. That made him even more nervous. Had he escaped? Was he hiding? Lying in wait for an ambush?  
  
"Hello?" Knives called out gruffly, slowly turning this way and that, trying to keep a sharp lookout for any movement. "I'm not going to hurt you, stupid human. Where are you?" He waited, and upon receiving no reply, tried again, this time more impatiently. "Listen, if you're going to try to attack me, it will be of no use. I am stronger than you, without a doubt, and if you come out now, nothing bad will happen to you."  
  
A slight whimper caught his attention and his eyes darted over to a little nook in the wall, something of where a closet was without the door and nothing inside. Except for the man. He was sitting with his back to the wall, knees drawn to his chest, and head bent. His fingers were laced around the back of his neck, cupping it gently, and bloody splotches were appearing on the thin sheet wrapped around his body.  
  
"Don't hurt me," he pleaded in a whisper. "Don't let him get me..."  
  
"What are you talking about?" spat Knives, striding over quickly now that he saw the creature was harmless. Just like Legato had been. That made his heart soften a little. He had....issues, thoughts, regrets...about Legato.  
  
Grayfall looked up at him in surprise, and then sighed a sigh of relief. "Who are you?" he next demanded, though very softly.  
  
"You may call me Knives. Who are you?"  
  
"...Grayfall."  
  
"Grayfall...?"  
  
The man raised cold, golden eyes to meet Knives, and he recognized those honey-colored orbs. Remembered them from so long ago...twenty years, wasn't it?  
  
The man smirked at him, but it was so sad. "Grayfall Bluesummers."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Twenty minutes later, Grayfall sat in Vash and Knives' kitchen, Stormie also present, drinking a cup of hot coffee and chowing down on all the donuts he could get his hands on. All watched with almost gaping mouths as he picked up one, took a giant bite out of it that devoured half of the pastry, then a sip of coffee, and then finished the rest of the donut only to pick up another. It was around his seventh donut that Stormie had to step in.  
  
"You might wanna stop," she hesitantly informed him. "I don't think that's good for you."  
  
Grayfall swallowed the bite he had been chewing and nodded obediently, resorting to just quietly drinking the rest of his coffee. His hands had been bandaged, for he had indeed broken through the glass with his fists, but he didn't seem to be showing any signs of pain.  
  
Knives had been observing him the whole while, and could not help but comment, "You really are your father's son..."  
  
"You knew my father, eh?" Grayfall grunted, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Legato. Yeah. You couldn't have been a friend of his. He didn't have any of those."  
  
"I was his employer, for a time."  
  
"Ah!" Grayfall's eyes lit up, and he lifted his gaze to Knives in a much more friendly manner. "You are Millions Knives! My father told my mother all about you! You made it possible for him to bring her all that money that kept us alive until she found a better job. He really thought a lot about you, ya' know?" Grayfall smiled more genuinely now, his long pointer finger tracing the rim of his coffee cup. "I guess...you were part of that other life he just couldn't stay away from."  
  
Knives bit his lip. Grayfall had no idea of his cruelty AND he thought he had been giving Legato money. Truthfully, he had no idea where Legato had gotten any money from. Perhaps pick-pocketing the dead? Or stealing? Who knew? The possibilities were endless.  
  
Vash lowered his head and did not say a thing.  
  
Stormie wisely switched subjects. "So, Grayfall, what exactly happened to you?"  
  
"Well," he started, winking at her in what would've been flirtatious had it not been for the sober expression he wore, the corners of his lips just curving up, "when I was thirteen, my mother contracted some sort of horrible disease and died within a matter of months. A man named Naoshi found me wandering the streets and took me in. It wasn't so bad at first, considering he was an assassin and all, but then he just got this psycho obsession with killing all the plants. I mean, it was out of control." Grayfall waved a hand in dismiss. "He wanted me to help him, but when it came time to kill my first plant...I just couldn't. It was a female, and she was so scared... I mean, I got down there and looked into her eyes and I knew that she was just like me, in a way, and I just refused. I said no. And Naoshi shot her and then beat me half to death. It was pretty routine from there. Wake up, eat breakfast, get beaten, do a few chores, get beaten, eat dinner, get beaten, and go to bed. So, what? Am I supposed to take that my whole life? No. I ran away." He shrugged.  
  
"An assassin who stalks only plants?" mused Stormie, her brow furrowed in worry. From the way Grayfall was speaking so casually, he must not have figured out they were all plants yet. "How good is he...?"  
  
"Ah, man, he's wonderful! You'll never see a more skilled killer. The plants he killed never saw it coming."  
  
Vash gulped down a lump in his throat, and then gently asked, "Grayfall, have you realized that we're all plants here?"  
  
Grayfall's eyes widened in shock, and then in horror. "No..." he breathed. And then louder, "NO! I hafta get out of here! I can't stay! I can't stay!" He moaned. "Oh, I have to leave this place! If Naoshi finds me...if he finds me..."  
  
"Grayfall!" Vash exclaimed. "Please, calm down!"  
  
"No! This is the least safest place on Gunsmoke right now! You don't understand! Three plants all under one roof?! It's insane!"  
  
Knives raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I gotta escape before he comes!" Grayfall was now at the door, struggling in his panic to get it open, trying to slide the dead bolt out of place. "I thought I'd be safe here," he whispered, and then burst outside.  
  
Stormie, who had been following at his heels, paused at the doorway to see that Grayfall had suddenly and unexplainably drawn to a halt, standing stock still out in the sand, body rigidly straight. "Grayfall?" she weakly called out.  
  
But Grayfall did not hear her voice. His breathing had become harsh and rapid. In his mind, he could hear the twinkling chimes of a music box, playing over and over again in the same eerie melody. "He's coming..." he murmured blankly. "Naoshi is coming..."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Yes! Finished with this chapter! What will poor Grayfall do? Will Naoshi get him? You'll have to wait and find out. Oh, and REVIEW! 


	4. Oriole

WOW!!! Thanx to everyone who reviewed! It really inspired me to get moving on this chapter! Now, I've added in a new original character, and I hope it doesn't screw things up, because she really is vital to the rest of the story. Just give her a chance - I know she seems confusing and just a bit too perfect at first, but I'll make her better in the following chapters. Don't forget to review!  
  
~~~~~~  
  
And then the music stopped.  
  
Grayfall's vision was swimming slightly, but not so much that he couldn't see the tall, broad-shouldered man striding towards him, cloak wrapped tightly to his body, mouth curved into a delighted smile. His tongue darted out to lick those taunting lips, trailing slowly over the bottom one, and his blue and purple eyes glittered maliciously.  
  
It seemed as if an invisible harp player had struck a chord, and then begun to deftly trail their fingers across golden strings, the rich music enveloping poor Grayfall and bombarding his frazzled senses. He turned his head slightly to see if Vash or Knives or Stormie heard it, if they saw this killer approaching, but they were just staring at him in confusion, yelling words that he couldn't hear. The music was too loud. An organ player joined in.  
  
Stormie tugged on Knives sleeve and shouted something that went unheard to Grayfall, and Knives shrugged and pulled away, stalking back into the house. She seemed to be fuming, and then turned to Vash, who nodded empathetically and started down the stairs with her.  
  
Grayfall clamped his hands over his ears, squinting, and shook his head frantically, trying to warn them not to come closer. They were plants! Didn't they know that they would die if they neared? But when he turned his eyes back to the front, the harp and organ music being played stopped instantly and was replaced by the slow, twinkling, metallic notes of a fading music box. Noashi was no where in sight, but Grayfall could sense that his presence was near. What had made him change his course? Surely he wasn't scared.  
  
Vash had a hand on his shoulder, coaxing him gently to come back into the house, trying to get a response. Stormie was worriedly at his side, not knowing what to do.  
  
Grayfall realized his mouth had been gaping and slowly worked on closing it. "Did you see him?" he murmured, turning to look at Vash imploringly. His eyes were wide and innocent, asking for some reassurance that he wasn't crazy.  
  
Vash bit his lip and slowly shook his head. "Who?"  
  
"He was just out there...coming over from town." Grayfall stared helplessly into the distance, his dark, shaggy hair lifted by the slight breeze and brushing over his glowing eyes.  
  
"We should go in," Stormie urged quietly, but he only jerked away from Vash's touch on his arm and swung to the left, desperate.  
  
"I saw him!" he cried out. "Naoshi! I know you're out there! I know what you want! I...I..." He whimpered slightly, and then steeled himself, helpless expression snapping back into one of determination. "I won't be some toy to your sadistic mind games!" he called out angrily, his voice lower this time.  
  
Vash winced, trying to usher the young man back inside, but Grayfall was not yet to be put off.  
  
"I heard the song," he muttered. "He's gotta be out there. There's no other possible explanation. But...something made him turn around. Someone or something is out there too."  
  
Stormie squinted out into the night, the desert wind whipping through her long, white blonde hair and the open robe she wore over her pajamas. A few grains of sand blew into her eyes and she dropped her face to rub at them furiously with her fists, grunting against how much it stung. When she was able to look up again, she saw nothing, as did Vash and Grayfall.  
  
"Let's go inside," Vash said gently, and the defeated man allowed himself to be shepherded back within the confines of the house.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives was sipping at some tea when they tromped back into the kitchen, exhausted and slightly disgruntled (or at least Stormie was). All took their seats again, and Grayfall resumed staring back into his coffee mug, though he did not touch the donuts this time.  
  
Suddenly, Knives slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the silverware and the little porcelain monkey that sat atop the napkins, a birthday present to the sandy-blonde twin from Stormie. Vash had gotten a laptop. "You're leading that murderer right to us, aren't you?" he growled, left eyebrow twitching insanely.  
  
Grayfall scowled. "He doesn't need me here to make it worth his time. He'd come for you anyway, simply because you're a plant."  
  
"That's a lie! He never would've even known who we were if it weren't for you dragging your sorry carcass onto our doorstep!"  
  
"Knives!" hushed Stormie sharply, smacking him over the head as she pushed out her chair and rose. "Stop it! It is NOT his fault!" Still frowning, she pointed out in mild anger, "At least his coming warned us! And why are you always blaming things on other people? Why is it never your fault? Are you flawless? Incapable of making mistakes, Mr. High-and-Mighty?"  
  
"I think I make a lot less than you."  
  
"Oh, excuse me," she snarled, mock curtseying to him.  
  
"STOP IT!" yelled Vash, sick of their bickering. "Why can't you two just accept the fact that your different and opposites attract and you're probably going to end up married with three kids someday?!"  
  
Silence.  
  
Ah, the blessed silence.  
  
And then...  
  
"You think I'd have children with HIM? DISGUSTING!"  
  
"Marriage? What? And with Stormie of all people?! That is truly sick, Vash!"  
  
A knock on the door discouraged any more arguing, and Vash, out of habit, leapt to his feet to answer it. Grayfall doggedly followed at his heels, as if afraid to be left alone in the room with the two plants, who were still appropriately gagging over the notion of producing offspring with one another. Cheerily, the blonde swung open the door and smiled, greeting the visitor with an energetic, "Hello, may I help you?"  
  
A young woman was leaning in the doorway, pale as the moon in the sky with a round, cherubic face that contained traces of Asian origins what with her slanted, hazel eyes and straight, jet-black hair that fell nearly to her waist. She was small, short as it was, only coming up to just a little below Grayfall's shoulder, and slender and curvy. Her full lips, dainty, upturned nose, and rosy cheeks just gave her that ethnic flair. But, if there was one thing that marred her beauty, it was her right hand, which hung loosely at her side, the fingers crippled and looking horribly mangled, as if she had gotten it caught in some sort of machine or something. She smiled at them, but said nothing.  
  
Vash's face shifted into an expression of uneasiness. He glanced at Grayfall for backup, not really expecting help, but somehow, he received it.  
  
"You're what frightened Naoshi, aren't you?"  
  
Surprising as it was, the woman did not look confused or bewildered, but simply nodded. "May I come in?" she asked politely, grinning to show two rows of straight white teeth.  
  
"Yes," murmured Vash, moving aside as she seemed to float right on in. Now in the light, they saw that she was dressed in an unusual fashion, simply a black turtleneck that was laced with patterns of exotic dragons, all in the color of gray so that they were hard to recognize, and a pair of ripped blue jeans. Her heavy boots with the thick tread tracked in dirt and sand, but she took no notice.  
  
Vash grimaced, knowing he was going to be sweeping the next day.  
  
Grayfall seemed to sense something strange about this girl, from the way his body had tensed up, but he remained silent with his jaw clamped. He followed her as she moved into the kitchen and then intently observed her next actions.  
  
She attacked Stormie.  
  
Or at least, that's what he thought she was doing until he realized that they were actually hugging and screaming in excitement. Having lived most of his life with Naoshi, and having had a mother that was too busy to give him hardly any attention, he didn't have much experience in affection. So, he, Knives, and Vash stood quietly to the side and watched as Stormie and this mystery woman hugged and screamed and talked and pulled on one another's hair, held the other's face, stepped back to admire one another, and then hug again. By the time it was over, he was dizzy and his ears hurt.  
  
"Guys!" Stormie exclaimed happily. "This is my BEST friend - Oriole! We grew up together and she is AMAZING!" She sighed, trying to catch her breath. "Knives, you'll love this. Her father was a plant, and her mother, an empath. She got the best of both worlds. Quite amazing, really. You wouldn't believe half the things she can do."  
  
Knives shrugged disinterestedly and then ambled back to his bedroom to sleep away what was left of the night. He really didn't have the energy to pretend like he cared about some half-breed.  
  
"Ignore him - he's a jerk," commanded Stormie sternly. "Meet his brother, Vash. He's more social. And this is Grayfall."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," Oriole murmured, shaking his hand and gazing into his eyes intently. "And you were correct. Naoshi did hold off his attack because he saw me coming, but not because he's scared."  
  
Grayfall nodded gravely. "Naoshi fears nothing."  
  
"Wrong. He fears leaving a job unfinished. Grayfall, he fears you."  
  
Grayfall appeared bemused at that statement. "Why?"  
  
"Because you hear him. You see him. You can sense his presence when no one else can. And most of all, you don't know just how dangerous you are."  
  
"How do YOU know all this?"  
  
"I'm not stupid. I've been around since before Naoshi was even born. That's right, I have the plant's life span and almost eternal youth. Naoshi has been an object of interest for my family for a while, and it didn't really surprise us when he started to kill. Well, it might've surprised my father - or at least enough to let him drop his guard and be slaughtered. Stormie, how could you not remember this?"  
  
Stormie furrowed her brow, hands on her hips. "What are you talking about, Oriole?"  
  
"I suppose that since we parted when we were both still a bit young, you never heard..." She smiled wistfully. "Father never told anyone of what happened, but...someone found out and we were afraid the truth might spread and ruin the family name. But...it obviously didn't spread to you."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"You know...I really don't feel like telling you the ugly truth at this moment, right here and now. Someday. Not today."  
  
Grayfall held up a hand, signaling for everyone to stop, his expression bordering on angry, and when he spoke, his voice holding restrained insanity. "What...what is going on?" he quietly demanded, nearly trembling in his anxiety.  
  
"My name is Oriole. I was able to get a read of Naoshi's emotions and just snatch a few of his thoughts as he crested that hill. He knows you four are here, but he won't be back for at least a few days. Rest easy tonight, all of you, because I came here for a vacation. Didn't know the past was going to come back to haunt me in this way though. Now, if you'll direct me to a bed, I will prepare for some rest."  
  
~~~~~  
  
In his own bedroom, the one he shared with Vash, Knives was scrounging through the closet, searching for a box of sacred possessions. Upon finding it, he dragged the cardboard carton over to his bed, sat on the edge of his mattress, and began to sift through the contents. Past a photo album, around his folded ship suit, and just beneath his picture frame holding some pressed flowers, he unearthed an old, dog-eared journal. Tenderly, he brushed his hand over the leather cover, chasing away the dust, and then opened it. Out of all the things from his past, the only one he had never touched was Legato's diary.  
  
~*~I wandered into town today after all my duties to Master had been performed. Midvalley and Dominique had preceded me and I saw them in a small diner, and, being in the mood for company, I followed them in. But as soon as I stepped within, I felt horribly out of place, like I just didn't belong. It seems I always feel like that, no matter where I go, even when I'm with Master. I couldn't bring myself to approach them, so I hurried back outside and around back, where I sat down against the wall. I was so ashamed, for reasons which I did not know. I wished I was back with Master; I wished he was more proud of me; I even wished that at the moment he was there to hit me so I could get my just punishment for being so cowardly, but none of that was possible. Tears began to flow down my face - I couldn't stop them. The back door opened and I almost panicked, but just a homely waitress came out. I thought that through my crying she looked familiar, and when she ran towards me and spoke my name, I knew it must be so. Heather, who I had not spoken to since I came to be with Master, was very concerned, and I didn't know how to respond. No one cared for me except Master. But this was a different kind of caring. The only was I could describe it was gentle. Yes, this was gentle caring.~*~  
  
Knives slammed the book shut as Vash walked in, quickly tossing it back into the box, which he in turn kicked across the room and into the closet. "How's the freak show doing in the kitchen?" he demanded gruffly, hoping his brother wouldn't inquire on what he had been reading.  
  
"It's very confusing," yawned Vash as he pulled back the covers and lay down.  
  
The two did not speak again until morning. 


	5. Guess who's coming to town

I think I've been forgetting to put a disclaimer. So here it is. I don't own Trigun - but I own, Grayfall, Stormie, and Oriole.  
  
Rocker Baby, you can't steal Grayfall - HE'S MINE!!! AHAHAHA!! Poor, mentally unstable baby - who'd want to be the illegitimate child of Legato??? I'm trying to think of a way to get some romance or at least romantic angst for him - or just a reason to talk about all his scars and how a girl would react. Any ideas??  
  
Zetsumei, thanks for your words of encouragement. It's nice to be called original - it's what I strive for. Yeah, I know, what is it with girls fantasizing themselves bonding with Vash over a span of two seconds? I'm trying to make him more realistic with Grayfall and Oriole - you know, not becoming instant soul mates with either of them, getting to know them, having a little bit of discomfort in the relationship, ect.  
  
Alba Aulbath, thanks for trying not to swear. LOL I'm glad you like Stormie - I'm trying to make her and Oriole likeable. Vash and Grayfall will get along - and maybe Knives and him will try. Maybe.  
  
Mellinia, Shadowwind, Gunslinger, and Ghosts-girl23, thanks for reviewing! I appreciate it!  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Vashu," grumbled Knives, his eyes still squinted closed against the sunlight pouring through the kitchen window in an obnoxious amount, "have I gotten my magazine yet?" He shook a box of cereal angrily over where his bowl supposedly was, hoping against all hope that some of those grain- based, sugar-coated flakes would float his way. "Come to think of it, have we gotten the mail at all lately?"  
  
"Mm? No, I don't think so, Knives," murmured Vash from his spot at the sink, scrubbing at the pan he had used to cook his eggs that morning. He'd also made some bacon for their visitors, but Grayfall, who had holed up in the storage room, sleeping on the small cot there, had yet to emerge, and Oriole had tromped over that morning, grunted hello, taken the bacon, and marched back over to Stormie's. Now Vash had to contend with THREE people who were not the morning type and one who was a near basket case - that being Grayfall, not Knives. "Actually," he said, "I think it's been a week since the mailman has come our way. They must be having trouble at the post office."  
  
"Must be."  
  
They were quiet a few moments, and then Vash, peering out his small window behind the sink, spotted the lone figure of Grayfall sitting on a sand dune not far away, gazing at the town in the distance. He had reclined back onto his forearms, one knee drawn up slightly and the other leg stretched out before him. "What a strange man," mused Vash quietly. "He must've climbed out his window."  
  
"Grayfall?"  
  
"None other."  
  
"What are we going to do about him? He makes me uncomfortable, and we don't have room to keep him around. And besides all that, he's a stranger. Does he show any interest in maybe going to town, getting a job - MOVING OUT?"  
  
"Knives, number one, everyone makes you uncomfortable. Number two, he should not be a stranger. He's the son of Legato, your right hand man, and after all the guilt you've recently experienced over what you did to that poor man, you should be seizing this chance to be kind to his offspring. Number three, he doesn't show interest in anything, and even if he did, he's only been here a few days, and I don't know him that well. And last of all, I want you to stop complaining or else YOU are going to town to pick up the groceries."  
  
Knives nearly choked on his milk, cheeks ballooning out comically as everything within his mouth threatened to explode out. There was nothing he hated more than going into town and being encompassed by hundreds of humans. The last time he had accompanied Stormie, he had gone dizzy and fallen into a dead faint, forcing her to try to carry him home. Halfway there, she had already dropped him seventeen times and had grown too exhausted to move. So she sat down with him and waited for him to stir. When he had awaken, it turned out he had to carry her home, for she had worn herself out trying to drag him through the desert. It had all been very embarrassing for the both of them, and they had sworn to never go there again - or at least not together.  
  
"Are you going to be nice now?" teased Vash, smiling smugly.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," growled his brother irritably. "I'll be nice."  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Do you mind if I join you?"  
  
Grayfall, his head hanging back, warmth heating his face, had been sunning himself much like a cat would, even if he was wearing jeans and one of Knives' T-shirts. He wasn't sure if Knives knew yet that he was wearing it, but Vash had told him it was ok. "Sure," he agreed, even though he desired to be alone.  
  
Oriole sat down at his side, cross-legged, and wasted no time in getting her point across. "Naoshi wanted you for an apprentice."  
  
"Why is Naoshi such a high point of interest for you?" he complained, opening one eye and glancing over at her with that golden orb. His back had started to hurt, as were his elbows, so he let himself fall into the sand, lying there with his arms spread out on either side. He had been reluctant to wear a short-sleeved garment at first because of the scars on his arms, twisting up along from his palms to his lean biceps and then even over his shoulders. Each dark mark slashed in a different direction, was a different size, had it's own distinct quality whether it was shape, roughness, color... He was ashamed of them, especially around the three plants, because they were all beautiful and flawless, it seemed, but Vash, sensing his apprehensive attitude, had rolled up his sleeve and winked, showing him that no one was as wonderful as they seemed. Besides that, Oriole's badly disfigured hand had made him feel better. Even such a confident, pretty woman with so many talents like her had something to make her imperfect.  
  
"Do you want to know why?" she asked, and when he looked at her confused, like he had forgotten what they were talking about during the slight pause, she raised her good hand to her forehead as if annoyed and shook her head vigorously. "Grayfall, we were speaking of Naoshi. You wanted to know why I have this obsession with tracking him."  
  
"Obsession was your word."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Tell me then," he said quietly, closing his eyes and relaxing again. "I'd like to know."  
  
She took her mangled hand within her working one, cradling the limp, scarred fingers with the rough, gnarly skin, curved like claws, as if she could not move it without great difficulty. She didn't seem too sad, just thoughtful. "My father was a plant, and when he met my mother, she was only seventeen. He didn't respect people too much - just her. I think it's because she could do things that even an empath shouldn't be able to do. Not only could she tell you exactly what you were feeling, but if she had something - like a blanket an old woman had knitted - she could hold it and tell you what that lady was thinking about when she was stitching every single thread."  
  
"Can you do that?"  
  
"I inherited it, yes."  
  
"My father was a telepath. I'm nothing like him." Grayfall frowned gravely, waving a hand. "Please, continue."  
  
"They married when she was eighteen, and he...he supported us, but he couldn't stay with us. Understand?"  
  
"He was unfaithful."  
  
"Yes... My mother tried to ignore it, but she was still very young and very inexperienced with men. Of course she was jealous, hurt... I was too. It seemed his mistress was a mere human woman from town, and he brought her gifts and spent the weekends with her. But when she became pregnant with his child - well, that relationship went to pot. You can imagine the hurt."  
  
Grayfall reflected on his memories of being a fatherless child, wondering why Legato, as he knew the man, left his mother so suddenly and never returned. The story seemed so much like his. "I...can," he whispered, a bit of morbid sarcasm creeping into his mind. "Your father's name wouldn't happen to be Legato, would it?"  
  
"No. We knew him only as North." Oriole smiled wryly, sensing the hurt flowing from Grayfall with such strength that it nearly overwhelmed her. "He drifted around after that, coming home every now and then when he was hungry or needed a change of clothes. Mother was just glad she didn't have to put up with him as much anymore, and I had made up in my mind, for I was around six at the time, and having grown as a plant would, I was very adult then, as much as I am now, that I was very angry, and very disgusted, and I wanted nothing to do with him. But his other child was of interest to me. My mother often sent me out to spy on the woman, just to keep tabs on her and my half-brother."  
  
Grayfall waited for the rest, but she lapsed into silence after that, her eyes closed as if she was meditating. He decided to give her a moment, just in case she was feeling a little emotional, but after two minutes or so of nothing but the whistling wind, he hummed quietly in his throat, the sound prodding her awake mentally.  
  
"She had been telling him that my father had raped her," Oriole growled, her disfigured hand beginning to shake and twitch, the only thing she had no control over. When she was angry, it showed it. "Maybe he did, too. Maybe she had never consented to be his little toy. Whatever the case, the boy was angry, and by the time he was sixteen, he was vowing to use his plant-like strength to rid the planet of the race of his father. My mother felt nothing for my father then, but warned him casually anyway, telling him to stay away from the house in case the boy tried something. Of course he thought it was an empty threat and ignored it."  
  
"And he killed your father, right?"  
  
"Of course. And as sad as it is, I didn't mind seeing him go, because for the first time since I had known her, my mother seemed to feel free..." Her voice trailed off. "Do you want to finish the story, or shall I?"  
  
"Your half-brother is...Naoshi."  
  
"A child come into existence through rape, brought up fueled on hate, and strengthened by my father's plant blood, Naoshi is my brother - and a man to be feared."  
  
~~~~~  
  
"MAIL CALL!" Stormie was standing out on her porch, banging a wooden spoon inside a huge, blackened pot. Her hair was up in a bun, an apron neatly around her waist, and when Knives and Vash emerged from their house to stare at her in wonderment, she set down her make-shift 'bell' and laughed daintily, crying in a horrible southern accent, "Oh my, Mr. Vash, I do declare, if you just ain't lookin' handsome this fine evening! And Mr. Forks, you're lookin' just as sour as ever!"  
  
Knives waved a hand at her as if to say, 'Fine, if you're going to be that way about it!' and headed back into the house. He was never amused by her little 'role-playing games', personalities she took on when she was feeling in a southern mood, an Italian mood, a French mood, a Spanish mood, ect.  
  
"Vash, dear, you have a letter!" she exclaimed, waving the envelope back and forth in the air.  
  
He walked over quickly and accepted the mail from the blonde girl, casually looking at the return address. "I don't know who 'the Harpers' are," he commented, ripping the envelope open and pulling out the piece of paper inside.  
  
Stormie waited patiently while he read, seeming content to just inspect her finger nails. She had been trying to let them grow, but they always seemed to break. Honestly, she hoped her life never depended on the condition of her hands, because if so, she'd be in a whole lot of trouble. Of course, she couldn't think of an example where someone would execute her because of her finger nails. Maybe a rogue manicurist? You never know...  
  
An insane grin spread over Vash's face, and he clenched his fists around the letter, his eyes growing misty with tears of joy. His shoulders began to tremble.  
  
Stormie knew what was coming, so she stepped back.  
  
Vash shot into the air like a bullet, leaping up with a whoop of excitement, and then turned and ran back to his house, screaming the entire way.  
  
Knives came out to see what all the commotion was about, and got bowled over in the doorway, ending up flat on his back. Sitting up, he rubbed his head and looked slightly disoriented. "What's going on?" he questioned of Stormie, who had strolled over across the yard to see how he was faring.  
  
"MERYL'S COMING!" Vash's exclamations of enthusiasm floated outside.  
  
"Meryl's coming," repeated Stormie, smiling.  
  
"Meryl's coming," whispered Knives, horrified. 


	6. Memories of Legato

Oriole was stargazing that warm evening when Grayfall approached her, almost sheepish as he tried to smile, but looked more grim than anything. She waved her good hand at him, letting him know he was welcome, and then turned her eyes back to the sliver of moon dropping low in the navy blue expanse of heavens.  
  
He did not take a seat beside her, just stood nervously on the edge of the porch. "Oriole?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Today, you said you could hold something that someone created, and tell me their emotions when they were making it."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"If I found something of my father's could you do that for me?"  
  
She hesitated, knowing full well what the consequences might be. Having done this favor before for various people, she had learned that the consequences could be disastrous. Sometimes, they were angered by what they learned, and lashed out, and other times, they were relieved. She didn't know whether the risk was worth the reward, although she did want to ease up the flow of negative energy from Grayfall dramatically. It almost gave her a headache sometimes, the angst that flowed from him.  
  
"If you don't...want to," he said quietly, disappointed, "I understand."  
  
She looked up, saw he was turning to walk away, and gently called his name, beckoning for him to come back. "Grayfall, the things you learn may not be pleasant."  
  
"The things I know now are not pleasant."  
  
"Fine. If you really want this, retrieve me one of his personal items. Whenever you want to do it is fine for me."  
  
He nodded, and said no more.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Grayfall figured that if Knives had been his father's employer, perhaps whatever personal items Legato had left behind were now with him. So, he decided to ask the man, but when he found that Knives was not home and Vash was too wrapped up in preparing for Meryl, he ventured into the twins' room alone, nearly shaking with nervousness. If they caught him...  
  
He dropped to his knees at the closet door, sliding it back and peering into the dark recesses. There was a box of belongings in the back, and he carefully slid it out. There were some interesting objects inside, and though he wondered if some of the things could be Legato's he wasn't sure - until he came to a small, leather-bound book. Upon opening the cover, he saw, in a simple scrawl, Legato Bluesummers penned on the inside.  
  
His heart nearly fluttered with excitement, and he clutched it to his chest, jumping up and hastening from the house. Certainly Oriole could work with this.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives was in a horribly fretful mood the next day, having suffered through the agonizing experience of watching his brother clean the house from top to bottom, humming good-naturedly and constantly reminding anyone who would listen, "Meryl is coming today!"  
  
Didn't he know the woman wouldn't be the same?  
  
Humorously enough, Knives considered himself the stronger twin, and looked upon Vash as if he was some fragile creature with an easily broken heart. Deep down, he loved his brother deeply, and was afraid that Meryl's visit would send him plummeting into a deep depression. Of course the human would be much older - twenty-years older, in fact, and would not be the same. And if the age didn't break down Vash's image and love of her, then the fact that she was married would. Well, or at least he assumed she was married. The return address said 'Harpers', and her name had been Stryfe. Yup, differently married.  
  
On the other hand, things had been more quiet around the house lately. Stormie, realizing that Vash and Knives lacked the room, had invited Oriole and Grayfall to stay at her home for as long as was needed - forever, if they so desired. She certainly was a social creature.  
  
Naoshi hadn't appeared at all...  
  
It was night now.  
  
The door bell rang and Vash squeaked in anticipation, excitedly scrambling towards the door and throwing it open. An image flashed before his eyes, and he saw young, beautiful Meryl, her black hair cropped short to her neck, blue eyes smiling and full of energy. He picked the short, dainty woman up in his arms and swung her around, shouting her name in exuberance.  
  
But she only cried out in surprise with a voice that was not Meryl's, trying to push him away.  
  
He dropped her in confusion and then heard a voice that WAS Meryl's calling his name, and a middle-aged woman launched herself into his arms, hugging him around the waist affectionately. "Vash!" she laughed. "Oh, Vash! I missed you!" She pulled away and held him at arm's length, head cocked to the side and a smile on her lips.  
  
He looked at her blankly, realizing THIS was Meryl and the girl before was just someone who looked an awful lot like her, or at least a young version of her. The Meryl before him was in her late forties, small wrinkles creasing the skin at the corners of her bright, blue eyes, laugh lines developing around her mouth. She had gained a little weight, but it looked good on her, making her a little bit more curvy, and her hair had grown out shoulder-length, as well as being streaked with gray.  
  
"H-hi, Meryl," he murmured, his throat suddenly dry, constricted.  
  
Knives frowned painfully. It was just as he had feared.  
  
"Gee," Meryl remarked wistfully, suddenly becoming self-conscious as she backed off to stand by the other young woman, "you haven't changed a bit since I last saw you. I suppose I look terribly old." When he said nothing, she laughed awkwardly. "Here, meet my daughter, Billy."  
  
Billy smiled sarcastically. "We've met."  
  
"Oh," said Meryl, now glancing over her shoulder as a tall, fair-skinned, blonde man came stumbling up the steps, loaded down with suitcases, "and this is my husband, Vincent."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Oriole leafed through the diary, a troubled expression on her face. Grayfall had given it to her earlier in the day, and she was trying to find something that would bring him comfort, but the only thing his father had seemed to write about was pain, suffering, anguish, betrayal, torture...  
  
"What would you like to know about?" she asked nervously, glancing up at him. "Anything specific?"  
  
"I want to know why I am here. Show me what he felt about my mother, what made it all happen." Grayfall stood in the doorway, his hand on the light switch, poised to darken the room. In the silence that followed, a blush heated his cheeks. "I mean, not HOW it happened, but what made it happen."  
  
She smiled grimly at him. "Can you handle it? The details are pretty depressing."  
  
He shrugged and flicked the lights off, letting shadows overtake the bedroom he was now residing in at Stormie's house, taking one faltering step after the other towards the young-looking woman sitting at the edge of his mattress. The bed dipped with his weight, and he looked at her, uncomfortable all the sudden with his decision, but deciding to go on with it anyhow. "How is this done?"  
  
"Just relax. I'll do all the work." In the darkness, her lips lifted into a sincere smile, and she placed her mangled hand over his. "Close your eyes now..." Her own dark lashes drifted lazily to her pale cheeks, and her free fingers brushed the cover of the journal. "Now, just don't think about anything... Be silent, and patient, and always keep your eyes shut. Now, breathe...and let me take you there."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Heather, Grayfall's mother, was a bit on the plain side, her mousy brown hair always swept up into a tight bun, eyes dull gray, and features soft and fine. She was leaning towards being tall, and spindly thin, always looking tired and overworked from her double jobs and late night shifts. Now, she was scurrying around the small diner, trying to attend to all the ravenous customers, and looking very fed up with it all. She glanced at the clock, and the time read half past nine. One more hour, and she was done, free for the night.  
  
The door swung open, bells chiming merrily, and a tall, deeply tanned man strode within, his broad shoulders sagging in exhaustion. His hair, a peculiar shade of blue, hung over one side of his face, cut from the other cheek by a strong nose and hiding one of his brilliant gold eyes. He wore a simple pair of gray jeans and a black turtleneck, the latter tight to show off lean, defined muscles in his arms and chest.  
  
"Legato, sit down and I'll be over soon," Heather called over to him, smiling in relief. She quickly gave a family, a mother, father, and little boy, their meals and hurried over to where the twenty-something year old telepath was seated, looking very serious and very defeated. "Hey, are you ok?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you want something to eat?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You have to eat something. I'll get you a bowl of soup." She hurried off again, wiping her hands on her apron, and ladled him out a healthy portion of vegetable stew. Then, shuffling her aching feet, she returned to his table and set down his food. "We have a room open tonight for you. Will you be staying?"  
  
He shook his head, looking sick. "I....can't."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
He stared listlessly into his soup. "I haven't the time."  
  
"Please?"  
  
His eyes lifted to meet hers briefly, and then he smiled, tenderly. "I will leave late, but I cannot sleep here tonight. When do you get off?"  
  
"Very soon. Just wait for me a little."  
  
And he did. Very patiently in fact, just sipping at his dinner until she arrived. Of course he suffered some grief for just drinking the broth and not consuming the meat or veggies, but he let himself be berated quietly, never raising a voice of complaint.  
  
"Come on," she said when she was finished with her lecture, "let's get you to your room. Are you sure you're not sick? You haven't been eating too much lately, and you're looking a bit thin."  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
But when she glanced back at him as they mounted the stairs, she couldn't help but feel there was something wrong with him, like he was suffering some secret pain, and he didn't seem strong enough to prevail over it at the time. Legato loved food! Something horrible would have to be going on for him to give it up.  
  
"Why don't you take a shower?" she suggested, handing him a bathrobe and towel. "You look a bit dusty from your travels."  
  
He obediently nodded and ambled off into the bathroom.  
  
~~~~~  
  
When Legato emerged, dressed in the long, black bathrobe, Heather was still sitting on the small bed that he would be sleeping in that night. His long fingers ran through his wet hair nervously, and he gulped down a lump in his throat. They'd been through this before.  
  
"Legato," she whispered, looking down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap, "you are really worrying me. Are you sick? In trouble? What's wrong?"  
  
"It really is nothing," he murmured in a voice so soft, so melodious that it was beautiful. He gingerly sat down beside her, and took one of her hands in his one, palms still soft from when he had scrubbed them roughly with soap. "You should stop worrying about me."  
  
"I...I can't," she admitted, nearly choking on sobs as tears spilled forth from her eyes, darkened to a bright silver in the dim room.  
  
"Don't cry!" he commanded almost gruffly, his voice rough and seeming upset. His eyes glowed with fury, but it was not one of anger. "Don't cry," he repeated, this time in a soothing tone of voice, almost pleading.  
  
"I...I can't stop!" she replied with more volume than she had intended, yelping when his hands tightened almost painfully over hers. "L- Legato...you're hurting me..."  
  
"I know, I know," he hushed, beginning to cry now himself. "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry..." And his hands left hers to cradle her face, bringing their foreheads together so that they touched gently, their tears mixing into joined rivers. His face tipped upward, lips meeting hers, and the kiss was so desperate it scared her.  
  
She shied away from him, gasping.  
  
Legato sighed heavily, slouching his position on the bed, hands in his lap, black robe sliding off one shoulder to reveal an ample amount of chest, crisscrossed with rugged scars. "Did I hurt you?" he inquired, biting his lip.  
  
"No, no, no..." Her heart was ready to explode from the tenseness in the room. "Just a little...surprised, that's all."  
  
"Well, goodnight then," he said, eyes trained on her, vivid and almost glowing yellow in the dark, much like a cat's.  
  
But she didn't leave. She just stood there, fidgeting, and then sat back down beside him, nearly going dizzy and breathless in her nervousness. "Goodnight," she murmured, and leaned in to press her mouth firmly to his, keeping her eyes wide open, staring into his own. Legato took no time in running his tongue over her lower lip, and then nipping it sharply.  
  
"You ok?" he asked, breath hot and labored on her face.  
  
"Yeah," she whispered, and placed her hand to his bare chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart against her palm. His skin was still cool and slightly damp from the shower, mouth tasting of mint from the toothpaste, and water dripped from the strands of his still wet hair, running down her neck in rivulets. "But," she said, pulling away with a fickle smile, "I should go now."  
  
"I know it's selfish to ask, but...please -" his eyes gleamed in the dusk. "Stay."  
  
~~~~~  
  
~*~Legato.~*~  
  
It could only have been four in the morning, way too early to wake up and even climb out of bed.  
  
~*~Knives?~*~  
  
~*~Legato Bluesummers.~*~  
  
A golden eye slid open in the early morning light, peering out at the opposite wall just past the foot of the bed. Heather, who had turned over and pressed her naked back firmly to his chest, was acting as something of a hot water bottle, heating up his body temperature and making his position under the covers toasty. No one would ever know how much he wanted to ignore that voice in his head, but he just couldn't.  
  
~*~Legato, I am ashamed... How dare you tear down everything I have built up for one worthless night of impulses?! You have stripped yourself of all the purity I have bestowed upon you...~*~  
  
Legato cringed inwardly, his nose nuzzling Heather's neck affectionately as he tried to drown out his Master's yells in his mind, but they were too loud, grating on his nerves, making his head pound. Already he was sensing a migraine.  
  
~*~Legato, the time is near.~*~  
  
He frowned, closing his eyes again.  
  
~*~You cannot ignore me.~*~  
  
Tears were building up behind his eyelids.  
  
~*~I own you. My brother is waiting, and you must go to him to make the plan complete.~*~  
  
He let the salty droplets slide down his cheeks.  
  
~*~Get up. Get dressed. Get going. Those are not requests.~*~  
  
~*~I know~*~ Legato replied, but he was numb inside. Untangling himself from the sleeping woman, he silently rose into the night-covered room and stood there, staring at Heather with eerie foreboding, and then bent and picked up his boxers, slipping them on, quickly followed by his pants. His shirt had been left in the bathroom, and on his way to retrieve it, he tripped over his carelessly discarded robe from the night before. But, with a groan, he persevered and found the garment, forcing it to fit over his head, forcing his arms to cooperate, and forcing himself not to let the regret wash over him like a tidal wave. But he had scarcely tugged on his boots when Heather awoke, pushing herself up in the bed with whatever strength she had left and squinting at him.  
  
"Legato?" she asked shakily, as if her worst fears had been confirmed and he was walking out of her life forever.  
  
And he was.  
  
"Heather," he answered, sliding halfway out the door and pausing to linger there, gazing back at her. He smirked. "Hey, go back to sleep. You need rest."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"I told you I had to be somewhere early."  
  
"But...you know, I thought that...that maybe you could stay this time." Her hair was messy, cascading down over her bare shoulders. "You'll come back, right?"  
  
"I will because I love you," he promised, but his heart broke at those words tumbling so carelessly from his lips. "Wait for me, Heather, I will," he lied, and he started to slide through the door the rest of the way. Maybe he had told her those things because he was in denial and that was what he truly wanted, or maybe because he couldn't bring himself to hurt her and needed to see her hopeful face, not her hurt, confused one. Maybe he somehow imagined that that he would find a way out of the whole mess and come back.  
  
Gently, he closed the door, and the latch clicked shut.  
  
~*~You know that this evening you will die.~*~  
  
Either way, someone had every intention of never letting him come back.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Oriole pulled herself out of her trance, breaking away from the journal and the movie-like memories playing in her head, turning them off for Grayfall as well. As always, when coming out of such a sensation, she was foggy on her surroundings and a little confused, but just lay back and let her mind adjust. Slowly.  
  
When she actually began to take notice of her position, she realized that somehow she had lied back on the bed, lop-sided across the comforter, and a heavy weight was draped over her body. Grayfall. He was a massive pressure on her small frame, his hands flat on either side of her head, face nestled into the crook of her neck. He seemed to have passed out...  
  
"Grayfall," she said loudly, shaking his shoulders none too gently. He stirred and moaned a bit, then began to tremble. She let him lie still, ceasing in jarring him, and sucked in a deep breath, feeling crushed. "Grayfall, are you ok?"  
  
He gripped the sheets in his fists, face still buried in his pillow, and began to tremble uncontrollably. She wondered if he was crying, his hopes shattered at the prospect of how he had come about, but in the next moment, when he pushed himself away from her, she saw only anger blazing in his expression. His teeth were gritted, a muscle in his jaw ticking dangerously.  
  
He was ready to kill someone.  
  
"Knives," he growled, and his voice was no longer soft and rich, just deep and animalistic. But there was something akin to betrayal laced in his tone as well. Rising dizzily, he moaned, "It was Knives the whole time!"  
  
"Grayfall, don't be hasty," she advised, sitting up and glaring at his back.  
  
He angrily stalked from the room, pace picking up as he went, quickening from a walk to a near run. His hand waved her back at her in a quick, furious gesture. "Just back off!" he screamed, voice raw with hurt, and fled the room, and soon after, the house.  
  
She got up and worriedly dashed after him.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Keep on reviewing! Naoshi comes back in soon! 


	7. The hurt of being abandoned

See? I can make romance between Grayfall and Oriole! Well...not that much, but let's be realistic - they've known each other only for a few days. And I can have some between Knives and Stormie in the next chapter, but he's not really the romantic type so not so much mushy stuff.  
  
Warning: Billy, Meryl's daughter, is a real brat. Do not worry. She will get better. ^_^  
  
Keep reading and reviewing! Remember, the more you review, the faster I write.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"...And so, after Knives was fully recovered, Stormie came to live in the underground warehouse next door! It was built by some crazy scientist who thought the world was gonna end, so he holed up in there till the day he died. She was pretty happy to be able to get her hands on that property. Then we lived pretty uneventfully for about twenty years, except for the occasional bounty hunter, and then, all the sudden, this man who looks just like Legato shows up on our doorstep! And then he tells us this story about this murderer who is out to get us and how he's Legato's son and all this other weird stuff, so you picked a pretty exciting time to visit! More potatoes?" Vash smiled, offering the bowl to the woman across the table.  
  
Meryl shook her head silently, still shocked by the whole story to the point where she could not speak. However, Vincent, her husband, was taking it even worse. He'd never heard of the whole ordeal involving the SEEDS ship, the gun-ho guns, the murders Knives had committed, and the final fight between the two brothers. In fact, the middle-aged, blond man could do nothing but sit and stare at the murdering plant, who was sitting calmly across the table form him, cruel ice blue eyes narrowed, glaring angrily back. He gulped a lump down in his throat. He didn't think this was such a good time to be vacationing with the plants. Vash seemed harmlessly goofy, but...a murderer hanging around? And even though Knives was acting fairly passive, there was something about him that was unnerving. Maybe it was the way he just kept staring, staring, staring, never even blinking or looking away. Just staring at Vincent, pouring at his hate through his eyes...  
  
Knives, meanwhile, was thinking his own thoughts. Meryl sure did pick an older version of Vash for her husband, he fumed. Why, in his youth, the man probably looked a lot like his brother, what with the pale skin, long face, and deep, green eyes. His hair, a rich, honey blonde, was not spiked up though, but allowed to hang shaggily just past his ears, much like Vash's did in the morning when he rolled out of bed. And that snobby daughter of theirs... The perfect picture of Meryl with an even worse attitude.  
  
"Murderer?" Vincent spoke up faintly when they lapsed into silence. "Is it safe to be staying here?"  
  
"What's all this crap about an underground warehouse?" demanded Billy, stuffing a cookie into her mouth.  
  
"Oh, he wouldn't hurt you!" proclaimed Vash, chuckling as if Vincent had said something terribly silly. "He only kills plants!"  
  
Even Meryl paled at that. And then dinner got much more interesting.  
  
Three things happened at the same time.  
  
First of all, Vash had put a casserole in the oven, and it began to burn. As the smoke filtered out of the kitchen, it reached the smoke alarm, sending it off. The shrill siren pierced the air. The second thing to happen was Billy, startled by the sound, began to choke on her dessert. She pounded on her chest, coughing and sputtering, and her mother immediately leapt up to help her.  
  
And the third thing to come into play was the most dramatic. The door burst open and Grayfall exploded in, running at such a speed that hardly anyone anticipated what was coming or even realized he was there before it happened. He leapt straight at Knives and hauled him out of his chair. The blond man grunted in surprise, and then yelled as a fist flew straight across his jaw. He stumbled back and fell to the ground, where Grayfall kicked him harshly, screaming insanely.  
  
"WHAT THE HECK?!?!" Knives covered his head to protect it from Grayfall's boot, which was not about to be put off in its quest of lodging in his head.  
  
"YOU KILLED MY FATHER, YOU HEARTLESS JERK!" he shrieked in reply, a voice that made everyone shiver in fear. He grabbed a handful of Knives' hair and yanked him to his feet, giving him a right hook soon followed by a left, which sent him spiraling to the ground again. He then slammed his foot down on the other man's head, grinding into it with his heel.  
  
Vincent, thinking this was the desert murderer, cried out and leapt to his feat, immediately trying to gather up his family and get them to safety. But Billy, who was still gasping from her near-death experience, was moving rather sluggishly.  
  
Vash had been frozen to his spot, unable to believe the sight before his eyes, but now he sat down the bowl of mashed potatoes he had been holding and tore off his apron, ready to go to his brother's assistance.  
  
Oriole was just appearing in the doorway, yelling, "Grayfall! Stop!"  
  
But before anyone could do anything, Knives had, using not his hands but some other force of power, as far as the others could see, thrown Grayfall off him and hurled him into a wall. Then he rose to his feet, face bloody and bruised, and wiped a sleeve across his mouth, spitting some watery-red fluid from his mouth. But he didn't look angry. Just guilty.  
  
Vash turned off the fire alarm, not saying a word. There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach - he had been the one to kill Legato, as far as he saw. Not Knives.  
  
Grayfall had hit his head hard on impact of the wall, and was now sitting with his back propped up against the wall, long legs before him. He groaned dizzily, head rolling about from one shoulder to the next, and then looked up, eyes glowing dangerously. They were near luminescent.  
  
"You did it - it was you the whole time," his haunted voice whispered, chilling everyone to the bone. "I thought you were someone who...who helped Legato Bluesummers..."  
  
Oriole walked over cautiously, circling around him just to make sure he wouldn't lash out, and then knelt by his side, her hand on his arm. "Grayfall," she said evenly, her tone reasoning, "you should go back to your room. Take some time too calm down and collect yourself."  
  
He shook his head weakly. He didn't want to. "I want to hear what Knives has to say for himself!" he growled. "I want to know if he's proud of what he's done. If he thinks I'm a major idiot for believing he ever did my father any good. All these years I've hated Legato Bluesummers because of his absence, and now I know...the real person I've been hating is you. So, what do you have to say?!"  
  
Knives was speechless. What could he say? "I...I never forced Legato into anything. He did it all on accord to his free will." Wow...that sounded really weak.  
  
Grayfall's eyes filled with tears, and he clamped a hand on Oriole's shoulder, using her as leverage to push himself up. She patted him on the back encouragingly and then sent him on his way, watching as he limped back over to Stormie's residence.  
  
Oriole then turned her wrath-filled gaze on Knives. "I wish I'd known," she whispered, voice trembling. "I'm sorry... It's partially my fault. I shouldn't have shown him, but still... I just wish you'd told him the truth." And then she too walked away.  
  
"What is up with this place?" demanded Billy loudly, clinging to her father's arm. "I want to go home!"  
  
Oriole glanced at her briefly and then shook her head, lingering in the doorway to look back at the scene. She then realized that Billy was staring intently at her mangled hand, eyes wide and horrified. She clamped her jaw shut tighter and walked away.  
  
Vash slumped his shoulders. He'd just wanted a nice dinner!  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives didn't sleep in his bed that night. He just sat on the floor with his back to the wall, holding a pocket knife in his hand and flicking the blade up and then pushing it down, up and down, up and down. He hadn't even considered telling Grayfall what he had done to Legato, and what a lie he had told at dinner. Legato wanted to die. He did everything on his own accord. No...  
  
Legato had been scared. He had begged to live.  
  
Knives had said no, as he recalled, closing his eyes tightly. He'd located Legato in that dingy hotel room, with that woman, the two asleep and tangled in each other's arms. He'd choked once he realized what was going on; Legato had known better, he'd assumed. So he woke him mentally and prodded him harshly until he pulled away from the warmth of his love and got dressed and left. When he appeared before Knives in person, the young telepath had been verbally and physically abused, but not so much that he wouldn't be able to do his job.  
  
"Please, Master," Legato had pleaded, tears in his eyes, falling to mix with the blood. "I will do anything - just let me go back to her one last time. Let me explain why I will not return. And I...I have some things I would like her to have..."  
  
Well, thought Knives, throwing back his head to hit it against the wall, he could've avoided this whole night if he had just let Legato go back and talk to Heather one last time! Then maybe Grayfall would've grown up knowing that his father was dead, and would not have felt so deserted, and in turn, angry. If he had just known from the start, it wouldn't have been such a shock.  
  
Vash walked into the dark room, not even bothering to turn on the light. He just shut the door and quietly changed. Then, he climbed into bed, lay down, and said nothing.  
  
After five minutes, Knives detected quiet sobbing. "Vashu?" he quietly asked.  
  
"I-it's a-all m-m-my fault," his brother wept softly. "I -I killed Legato... I - I - I'm the one who shot him, not you..."  
  
"Vashu!" Knives made sure to keep his voice quiet. "It was NOT your fault! I forced both of you to do a lot of things! I made you shoot Legato and I made Legato offer himself to death... Neither of you wanted to partake in any of it..."  
  
The shadows near Vash's bed shifted and sat up, looking at Knives curiously. "I thought that he wanted to...to die. He was so loyal to you. And he always said..."  
  
"I understand, Master," echoed Knives, clenching his fist around the closed pocket knife. "The only thing he understood was that I would not allow him to escape with his life. And he was loyal to me, until he met Grayfall's mother. Then he just...he wanted other things and he drifted away. But I just wouldn't let him live. I could let him live..."  
  
Vash tried to make as little noise as possible as he rolled off the edge of the mattress and crept quietly over towards his twin. They sat there, side by side, thinking their own private thoughts and guarding them close from the other.  
  
"Knives?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Before we were...on good terms, I would've had to go through something like this alone."  
  
"As would I."  
  
"It's good to have you around."  
  
"I missed you too, Vashu."  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Stormie hasn't come home." Grayfall was standing in Oriole's bedroom doorway, hugging himself tight and hoping that his shivering didn't show through.  
  
"It's only 9:30. Town is about an hour away, and since she insists on walking, she could be arriving any second now."  
  
Grayfall shook his head.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to be with her, standing in her doorway, feeling awkward, but he didn't want to walk away and remain alone. He wished his mother was around, and that maybe he had a friend or someone to comfort him. He wished he hadn't flown off the handle and attacked Knives an hour earlier.  
  
Oriole stood up from her desk, wearing blue pajama pants and matching, long- sleeved top that buttoned up the front. It was too big for her, hinting that she had borrowed it from the missing plant. She looked comically cute in the baggy clothes, her hair up in a loose bun and one sleeve drooping over her crippled hand, hiding it. The way Billy had looked at her earlier had made her a little self-conscious and even embarrassed. "I'm going to get a snack," she said calmly. "Do you want anything?"  
  
He hadn't had dinner, so he nodded.  
  
The two of them walked to the kitchen, both on edge, and she pulled out a box of chocolates and set it on the table between them. Some snack. Neither one touched the candies, just sat and pretended like they were going to get around to it eventually. Grayfall seemed to be waiting for something.  
  
Oriole looked at the clock worriedly. It was ten now. She was beginning to consider calling Vash and Knives and informing them.  
  
Grayfall got out of his chair and stretched out on his back on the kitchen floor, not caring that he had no apparent reason to or that Oriole just stared. When it came, he didn't want the fear and panic to make him fall or anything.  
  
And then, it sounded as if someone had cranked up a small music box, the twinkling melody eerily echoing in the empty kitchen. Of course, Oriole didn't hear it, still playing with one of the chocolates and bringing it to her lips, nibbling hesitantly. He closed his eyes tightly.  
  
The music was very faint, slowly transforming from the metallic notes to the harp player, accompanied by the piano. Naoshi wasn't close by, judging by the volume, but he was close enough, preparing to kill a plant. But there weren't any plants in the area that weren't right next door, as far as Grayfall knew.  
  
Except Stormie.  
  
"Oriole," he hoarsely said, throat dry and constricted. "Call Vash. He needs to..." He couldn't finish. It was hard to concentrate with the music distracting him, and he couldn't even hear himself speaking. Oriole was staring at him, brown, almond-shaped eyes wide. "It's Naoshi..."  
  
Oriole was already dialing the number.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives was the one who answered the phone this time. He listened silently while the person on the other line spoke and then said quietly, "I'll take care of it," and hung up. He looked at Vash pointedly before turning around and opening his dresser drawer, pulling out the gun he had made so many years ago at that abandoned SEEDS ship. He then took Vash's and tossed it to him.  
  
"What's going on?" demanded his brother as fumbled to catch the weapon, confused, brow furrowed. He had sworn never to kill again, and he didn't want to break that vow now. What did Knives want him to do now?  
  
"It's that plant assassin," explained his twin, already halfway out the door. "Grayfall heard his death song. And Stormie's not home. You can stay if you want, but I'm going to look for her." And he broke into a run.  
  
~~~~~  
  
AHHH!! WHAT WILL HAPPEN?!?! Will Stormie be hurt? Will she even be ALIVE?!?! Not even I know! Review and tell me what YOU want! 


	8. Tortured Soul

There ya' go! New chapter! Keep on reviewing!  
  
~~~~~  
  
She never even saw it coming. One moment, she's trudging through the desert sand, singing carefree to the full moon and swinging her shopping bag in rhythm, and then the next, HE is in front of her, that ghostly apparition of a man, leering at her in such a passionate hate. She gasped, tried to back away, but stumbled and fell instead, freezing as their eyes locked.  
  
One of his was purple, and the other, blue... Jeweled orbs in his long, refined face, the glow of the stars making it appear porcelain and almost ageless - so old and wise, while at the same time, youthful. His white hair was tied back loosely at the nape of his neck, body covered in all black, some of the clothing thick and leathery, like a reptile's skin, and at places covered with buckles and straps and zippers, all in such a complicated order that it was hard to sort out.  
  
"I have some questions," he said calmly.  
  
She tried to scoot back and jump to her feet, but he slammed a boot down onto her abdomen, knocking the wind out of her lungs. She gasped, useless as a fish on land.  
  
"Grayfall resides with you now?"  
  
She glared at him affirmatively.  
  
"What about my half-sister?"  
  
At this she looked genuinely confused.  
  
"Oriole."  
  
Stormie was many things. She was a quick study, as well as a quick recovery. She rolled out of the way, and before he could react, rocked onto her shoulders and into a backward somersault. Landing on her knees, she swiftly dodged as he tried to lash out at her. "Why are you asking me about what you already know?" she demanded.  
  
"Why do you think?"  
  
She didn't answer. She didn't know.  
  
"You know," he said, drawing a dagger from a sheath strapped to his thigh, "I like to see things like you suffer. I like to see you bleed and try to act tough even when your entire being is being ripped apart by agony. Because my father was just like you, and that's what he did to my mother and to me. So, you must suffer his sins." He eyed her suggestively, tapping a forefinger to the blade of the knife.  
  
She rolled up one of her sleeves, gritting her teeth. "I'm not accepting this, you freakin' murderer," she spit out, and then grinned right back at him. She was pretty sure she was going to die right then and there, but even if she did, she wasn't going to go down without a fight that would be memorable in his mind for years to come. The muscles strained and spasmed in her forearm and shoulder, beginning to try to stretch to accommodate the oncoming angel arm. A beam of electricity skipped down and around her limb, and then another, and another.  
  
Naoshi only shook his head, unimpressed. Did she really think he hadn't dealt with this before? Such fools, the whole race, such fools...  
  
~~~~~  
  
Vash, for about the fifth time, felt nothing but air between him and the jeep as it careened over yet another sand dune. His fist had clenched around the door, the knuckles turning white, and he once again whispered a prayer that he might survive the wild ride.  
  
Oh, stupid, stupid stupid! He was so stupid for letting Knives drive, for taking the seat with the broken belt! Stupid, stupid, stupid!  
  
Knives was a wild man with only one thing on his mind as he pushed the battered vehicle to the limit. He needed to find Stormie - at any cost. His eyes were wide, unaware of the specs of sand accumulating there, and his jaw was clenched tight to keep his teeth from rattling against the bumps they sped over. He had to get there, and he had to get there NOW!  
  
Vash cried out for his brother to slow down after almost being jolted out the window once more.  
  
And Knives did. Suddenly. He slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel to the side, causing the car to spin into a three-sixty before grinding to a halt. Vash had hit the dashboard with a painful thud and was still foggy on what was happening when he saw his twin throw open the door and jump out, yelling behind him, "Get in the driver seat, Vash!"  
  
Vash scooted over, rubbing his sore jaw. He didn't quite understand what was going on until he caught sight of Knives kneeling in the sand. He was tearing his jacket from his body and throwing it over an object in the sand. Vash registered in his mind with a sick feeling that the object was Stormie.  
  
"Drive, Vash!" screamed Knives, leaping into the front seat with Stormie cradled in his arms. He had wrapped her tightly in his coat, covering her upper body and some of her legs. Still, it was visible that her clothes had been torn - no, more like shredded - and she was bleeding from countless wounds.  
  
Vash took off at a mad pace, driven by a blind fear. He didn't even dare glance over at Stormie for fear he'd wreck. Already the jeep didn't seem like it could take much more. The thing was just a bucket of bolts, it seemed like, and the engine was making frightening guttural noises that sounded like it was about to give out.  
  
"FASTER!" Knives commanded frantically, and it scared Vash, because he had never heard his brother sound so scared and so desperate - not the kind of fear for one's self, but the sort of fear you contain when you know you're about to lose something sacred.  
  
Vash drove faster.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie kept a bulb in her basement for extreme medical cases - she had used it for Knives when he had taken his turn for the worse after the fight. She never expected they'd have to insert her into the machine, used only for high-risk procedures. Then again, she still wasn't conscious. Who knew what she'd really have to say.  
  
Knives just watched the screen from the main room, seeing as how the bulb was in a very small, adjacent room that was made to specially suit the needs of the bulb. It's temperature was easily adjusted, the patient was more 'protected', the room was dark for a calm atmosphere, and, according to Stormie, it was just plain easier to observe. Knives didn't like her methods. He'd rather be in there - with her - watching the patient face to face, making sure she seemed comfortable and content, not just staring at the data the computer presented to him.  
  
Why was Stormie always talking about the importance of temperature and computers?  
  
Would Stormie even be able to talk about anything again...?  
  
A few days passed and there was, surprisingly, a drastic improvement. She was well enough that Oriole declared it best to take her out of the bulb and sentence her to a bed. Although Knives disagreed, the woman was adamant about it, and in another day, her decision was final. Stormie still didn't wake though.  
  
The Harpers, Meryl's family, didn't leave. Meryl saw the great stress on the plants and put her family to work trying to help them. She cooked, Billy cleaned, and Vincent, although he had to report to work on the weekdays, drove out to help on the weekend. It was strange really - and it made Knives very edgy. What was this human trying to move in for? She still had feelings for Vash - he knew it! Her prolonging the visit was a bad sign. She wanted to be close to Vash, and he wasn't complaining. But just how far would this go...?  
  
Billy, a typical snobby seventeen year old, wasn't pleased either. She complained day and night, titling their stay as 'the vacation from hell'. Frankly, Knives agreed with her. Having more people underfoot got in the way of his caring for Stormie.  
  
As for Grayfall - he'd nearly disappeared. Stormie was proof that Naoshi was still out there and setting up a time and place to kill them, and it scared him. He spent most of his time alone, never reaching out to anyone. It was obvious he wanted to leave, but it seemed like he had become attached to the plants. No one quite knew why.  
  
One day, as he sat with Stormie at her bedside, Knives became aware of a presence behind him and turned to see Grayfall there, the tall, elegant man the exact picture of his father, grim frown in place. Even his hair style was the same, the dark chocolate hair lazily draping over one golden eye - it was uncanny.  
  
"What do you want?" asked Knives softly, and when Grayfall didn't say anything, he sighed. "I'm sorry about Legato," he told the young man begrudgingly.  
  
"Sorry isn't what I came for," he replied, just as gruffly. "I wanna know about Stormie."  
  
"She's bad. Real bad."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Grayfall, I'd like to be alone."  
  
"Tough. I've been alone all my life and it's the last thing I've wanted."  
  
"Leave."  
  
"Do you think you control me? You own my soul like you owned my father's?"  
  
"...you've been...doing some reading."  
  
"Yes. The journal."  
  
There was tense silence between them, and for a while, it seemed nothing could be said. And then, Knives came up with a most simple and profound gesture. He stood up, faced Grayfall directly, and said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I took him away from you."  
  
Grayfall nodded, and whether Knives expected him to shed tears or show emotions, he was disappointed, for his face was stone cold. He sat down beside where Knives had been and the plant resumed his past position. "Now - I want to talk."  
  
"About...?"  
  
"About Naoshi. I think we should get out of his range - move away from where he can find us."  
  
"No."  
  
"Why? I - I know he's coming soon! I can feel it!"  
  
"There is something about Vash and Stormie and even something about me that has developed lately. We do not run away from battles. It only prolongs the fight. We will stop Naoshi ourselves, when the time is right. We will take our revenge."  
  
"How long?!" cried out Grayfall, lowering his gaze to the floor, hands clenched into painfully tight fists. "How long will you wait?! Stormie has already had this - had this done to her! Knives, don't you understand what he did to her out in the desert?! Don't you see some of her wounds and know what they mean?"  
  
Knives glared at Grayfall, silently commanding him not to speak the words out loud. Of course he knew what Naoshi had done to Stormie when she was helpless - how could he not?  
  
"If you allow your loved ones to be beaten within an inch of their lives, and you still hold off on your revenge, continuing to sit here and do nothing, what will it take to motivate you, Knives?!"  
  
"I will not be pressured into this by the likes of you!"  
  
"WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! Knives! I am not pressuring you! I am worried and I should not even have to be discussing this with you! You should be either running with Vash and Stormie or out there ensuring this never happens again!"  
  
"I will," Knives ground out, "in good time."  
  
Grayfall just stood up, turning to walk away. But he stopped, his back to Knives, hand on the door frame. "I know that you don't want to admit it," he whispered, "and I know that no one will say it out loud, but it's all Vash and Oriole and I are thinking about now. You know, Knives...he tortured her in worse ways than you can imagine out there. She's going to have some issues when she wakes up. If you're not willing to defend her now, when will you? When she's dead?" And he shook his head as he continued out, leaving the other man to his thoughts.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie woke up the next day, and true to Grayfall's predictions, she was just a shell of herself, haunted by her experience. When her eyes first fluttered open, Knives was there, holding her hand loosely in his, and when she recalled where she was and why she was in pain, tears flooded to her eyes and she looked away from him guiltily. She had not been strong. He tried to speak her name, but she shook her head and refused to even reply, her mind crying for him to leave.  
  
And he did.  
  
Oriole went into the room after him and came out even more sober than usual, declaring the mind of the plant was a horrible mess, torn and shredded and mangled in its misery. "I nearly passed out from all the grief that glanced upon my mind from hers," she said quietly, and then looked at Knives pointedly. "I'm leaving soon. Grayfall is coming with me. I advise you and Vash take Stormie somewhere safe."  
  
"When are you leaving?"  
  
"Next week. I have a place set up for us."  
  
Vash was standing nearby, silent for the most part. "What of Naoshi?"  
  
"We are choosing to run. You may fight if you like. After all, it's more your battle than mine." She smiled cattily, a little way of letting them know she was angry, and then walked away without even a goodbye.  
  
"Sounds like we'll be on our own soon," said Vash quietly, leaning back against the wall.  
  
"So sure about that, Vashu?"  
  
"What do you mean by that?"  
  
"Meryl. When is she leaving?"  
  
Vash shrugged his shoulders, immediately growing uncomfortable. "Why? Is Billy getting to you?"  
  
"They all are. Vash, the woman has ulterior motives. She wants something more than just friendship or...something. Why is she staying around like this? Perhaps she wants to relive her youth - a young girl with an exciting life, Vash the Stampede on her arm. Pathetic." He rolled his eyes.  
  
"She is not like that, Knives! If you remember, she dumped me, and she is married, AND she has a daughter living here!"  
  
"Uh-huh." Knives was not satisfied. It didn't really matter though; the conversation was already over, dead in the water. The topic of Meryl was not one easily discussed. Besides, it was putting Vash in a bad mood and Vash in a bad mood was not pretty, so he decided to go back to Stormie and offer what little comfort he could.  
  
She was asleep. He shut the door quietly, but even the soft clicking of the latch startled her awake. She looked at him, eyes almost terrified, like she didn't trust him anymore, and he realized just what was going on here, just how Grayfall felt. But that didn't sway his decision. He would wait for the right time to seek out Naoshi.  
  
Looking at her in questioning, he spread out his arms as if to ask, 'well, what do you want me to do?' and waited.  
  
"Tell me what you think of me now," she implored quietly, pushing herself up onto her forearms. "I mean, how do you feel when you look at me now?"  
  
"I think...you're very strong," he said simply, helplessly. "Too strong to let this get to you. You are...Stormie, and I...I am just glad you're ok, talking to me." As crude as it sounded, coming from Knives, it was like the most heartfelt, sympathetic thing ever spoken.  
  
She smiled at him, weakly, and her lower lip quivered dangerously, like she was about to burst into sobs once more. Her eyes closed, and she felt warm arms encircle her, hesitantly, holding her close and trying to make her feel safe.  
  
But how could she tell him that she didn't understand why no one was willing to face Naoshi? That she'd never feel safe until the man who had done this to her was dead? 


	9. He never heard

I got stuck on my geometry test today. I put 'Waffle' in one of the blanks.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Grayfall drew the string closed on his satchel, the only bag he had to contain his few possessions: some borrowed clothes, Legato's journal, and a silver cross necklace his mother had owned. Usually, he wore the chain around his neck, the pendant under his shirt, but he felt too distant to even fasten it that day. He and Oriole were leaving Stormie, Vash, and Knives at long last. Couldn't put it off any longer what with their conflicting ideas and fear of Naoshi's presence looming in the distance.  
  
He would miss Vash and Stormie. Not really Knives. The man was obstinate and would not even stand to defend his family after they'd been severely hurt. No, Grayfall didn't mind leaving him in the least.  
  
"Are you ready yet?" Oriole demanded, having been putting her things together in the same room. Her crippled hand restricted her some as she tried to fold her clothes, fingers refusing to cooperate, and a few times she had looked ready to cry in frustration. Simple tasks were so difficult for her, and she hated Grayfall seeing her struggle through them, but he was wise and kept his mouth shut, so she had managed somehow. Now, she had given up and thrown everything into her bag, deciding she no longer cared if it wrinkled or not.  
  
Grayfall straightened his stooped position over the bed, the bag thrown over his shoulder, and smiled. "Yeah. We can go now."  
  
They planned on walking to the nearest town and boarding a sand steamer to talk them several iles away, where Oriole had a good friend who would house them for a minimal fee. Grayfall supposed he would be spending a good part of his life with the half-plant half-empath. He'd missed out on his teenage years, the time where people learn how to survive in the real world, and was unsure of himself and where to go and what to do. Besides, as long as they were together, they could protect each other from Naoshi. He would be the one to set the alarm, and she would be the one to find an escape to safety. It worked out perfectly. So why did he feel like this was a bad decision?  
  
Stormie, dressed casually in a pair of sweat pants and a pale pink, short- sleeved shirt, was leisurely stretched out in a hammock set up on the porch. Her eyes had been closed, as if she was napping, but they flew open when she heard them coming. "Hey, wait," she called out timidly, struggling to roll out of the suspended netting. The sand shifted tediously beneath her bare feet as she hobbled over, hesitantly embracing Oriole, who remained stock still. Stormie had been shying away from physical touch ever since the attack, and just gleaning her memories of it made Oriole sick. That's what she hated about her gift. She always was burdened with the pain of others.  
  
"Knives will take care of you, Storm," Oriole said reassuringly, her low voice one of comfort. "Don't worry."  
  
"Why does everyone think it's up to Knives to keep me safe?" she sighed wistfully, tucking a platinum blonde strand of hair behind her ear. The woman was still in the early stages of recovery, a dark red scrape on her cheek and a bruise blotching her left eye, forcing it to close slightly. She still struggled with walking, and was very stiff, but her attitude was what bothered everyone the most. For once in her life, Stormie was too upset to talk, to laugh, to even smile... "Knives doesn't look at me as some responsibility, you know. He barely can stand me."  
  
Oriole cocked her head to the side, smirking. "That's not what his emotions convey. He gives off an aura of a fierce desire to protect you."  
  
Grayfall didn't quite agree, but kept his mouth shut.  
  
"Have you...said goodbye to Vash?" Stormie asked, her hands on her hips, brow furrowed in a bit of worry. She certainly looked liked she didn't want them to leave.  
  
"Yes. This morning."  
  
"Well...goodbye. Be sure to come back and visit...ok?"  
  
They said their final farewells and parted, both with everything they owned on their backs. Oriole, her head bowed, stared at her feet as she walked, one foot before the other, left right, left right, a rhythmic, steady pace. Her shoes were polished black boots with thick tread, slightly scuffed from use. Beside her, she could catch a glimpse of Grayfall looking just as forlorn as she felt, his face shadowed by doubt and confusion.  
  
"This place I've prepared is safe," she promised. "And the twins will take good care of Stormie."  
  
"We need to fight," muttered Grayfall. "He should be slain, not ignored."  
  
"Grayfall, I've been burned by the fire. I won't play with it again."  
  
And the houses behind them grew smaller and smaller while town loomed in the distance.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Billy had been given permission by her mother to head into town, but not even that could quench her thirst for freedom. None of her friends were around, and her dad was wrapped up in work, so she was virtually alone. Her mood was only worsened by the prospect of how her family life might be changing, a dark cloud hanging in the horizon.  
  
Lately, her mother and father had been bickering, and badly at that.  
  
Billy found herself drawn to a small café, where she was informed there was not a free table and asked if she might possibly consider sharing? Ok, she consented, but not with a couple on a date, a family out to dinner, who anyone who looked particularly talkative. They ended up sitting her next to a most strange and intriguing man, his hair a pure white and eyes of different colors. He didn't pay any attention to her though, just continued to read the paper.  
  
She'd been observing the plants her mother was hanging around with all week. Vash was outstandingly friendly and Knives was just the opposite. She liked Knives better. Plus, she had always trusted her mom, but she'd also sensed an...unhappiness? There was no doubt that her dad loved her mom, but was the opposite true? And what with this Vash, boyfriend from the past, thrown into the mix, things were getting weird.  
  
She could've sworn she'd seen the two of them flirting!  
  
Looks like divorce is on the way...  
  
No, no, no, no! She would not let her mind go there! That was too absurd!  
  
"Excuse me," said the man sitting across the table from her, his voice deep and strangely accented. "Would you happen to have the time?"  
  
"No," she said dryly, not caring that the wrist that she wore her watch on was in plain sight and that she wasn't even attempting to look at it.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at her in just a tad bit of amusement. The corner of his mouth quirked up. "What's your name, girl?"  
  
"None of your business."  
  
"How old are you?"  
  
"Why would you care?"  
  
He tucked his fist beneath his chin, looking vaguely annoyed now, the spark of laughter gone from his eyes. Nothing was said for a while, and he nonchalantly sipped his water, eyes trained on her the whole time. And then she wilted under his gaze.  
  
"My name is Billy. I'm seventeen. You?"  
  
"You can call me..." He paused uncertainly. "Naoshi."  
  
She studied him carefully, and from her judgment, he couldn't be out of his twenties. Good looking guy too. But that name...why was it so familiar? Naoshi, Naoshi, Naoshi...something about it. Vash had said it a few times, but she could not figure out for the life of her what it had been in relation too. It's not like she paid attention to anything the stupid plant said anyhow. "How old are you?"  
  
"I'm as old as you want me to be," he offered, like it was some sort of invitation.  
  
Billy glared at him with righteous indignation, put into a bad mood by all the games they were playing. She was sick of flirting. Sick of just seeing people pretending the opposite of what they were thinking. "Then you be my age," she demanded, and he grinned broadly.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Billy didn't come home that night. Meryl sat up all night in the living room, staring out the window and into the darkness. She called Vincent, and he began to look too. Vash was equally worried and volunteered to scan the town all night.  
  
Knives hoped the development would lead to the leaving of their unwelcome visitors.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"This place is nice," commented Billy, glancing around her new friend's home appreciatively. "Wow...you're used to the finer things in life, no?"  
  
"Yes," he laughed, gesturing for her to follow him to the next room. "See this?" he asked, motioning to the small, clear pool in the center of the room. It was flanked by sleek furniture and a small snack bar, along with potted plants. "Do you like to swim?"  
  
"Yes! Of course!" she exclaimed in surprise, eyes wide at the very idea of having a pool in one's house. "But water is so precious...I mean..."  
  
"Yeah, I know. Connections." He winked. "Ok, next room. I converted it into a green house."  
  
"How?" she inquired in awe, feeling the warmth soak into her skin as soon as she stepped into the makeshift garden. Colorful flowers and green, leafy plants made the room lush and inviting, exotic and mystifying. "How did you make them grow like this? Only a plant would be capable of something this great!"  
  
"My...father was a plant," he volunteered the information with apprehension, his facial features fickle as he ran his thumb over a blood red petal of a rose, the flower like silk beneath his callused skin.  
  
Having been burying her face into a sweet-smelling lilac bush, Billy glanced over at him in surprise, the purple and white swirling into a smooth pattern on the petals and brushing lightly over her pale cheek. For a few moments, her eyes were wide in shock, and then she recovered, smiling at him lightly. Within seconds, she had turned back to indulging in the sweet fragrance of the lilacs.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives stood at the window in Stormie's bedroom, one arm poised to delicately hold back the lacy curtain, and the other resting gently on the window sill. He breathed in the night air deeply, drinking it in, and then turned to look over his shoulder at the woman who was sitting in the corner at the foot of her bed, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was shivering, most likely recalling some of the moments she had spent with Naoshi. He knew he could not protect her from her own mind, so he helplessly watched. It was all he could do.  
  
Stormie was breathing raggedly, clutching tightly to the edges of her blanket and wishing she could ward off the ghost touches that lingered on her body from where his hands had been. She wished that every time she closed her eyes she didn't see his face, but most of all, with her fingers brushing over her lips in foreboding, she wished he had not kissed her, roughly and angrily. That'd been after he had carved various patterns into her flesh with his dagger. She'd passed out about thirty seconds after the kiss began, and had awaken alone in the desert for a brief moment before falling unconscious again.  
  
Knives was sitting beside her now. When had he walked over? She didn't care. She leaned onto his shoulder and felt him lay a large hand to her head, petting it tenderly like he would a child. Then, his fingers dropped down to tangle gently in her blonde hair, playing with it absent-mindedly. There was something she really needed to tell him...  
  
"It's going to get cold tonight, Stormie," he commented softly, the conversation so dead that he had to turn to the weather for direction.  
  
She looked up at him, seeing that he was looking back, his features muted and simple in the darkness, eyes a deeper blue. Like a lake at night. Suddenly, it all blurred as tears sprang to her eyes.  
  
"What's wrong now?" he said, concern touching his gruff voice. He hesitantly lifted a hand, as if he intended to brush away the salty droplets, but discomfort set in and he dropped his arm. "Stormie, don't let Naoshi get to you!"  
  
She shook her head without so much as a sound, her lower lip trembling in a silent whimper. He didn't know how much it had hurt. He didn't realize how embarrassing it had been to be forced to kiss Naoshi. Then, she put her head back into his shoulder and said shakily, "It's ok, Knives. I'm fine. You're - you're right... Goodnight." And still, she had yet to tell him.  
  
Knives dropped his head onto his chest and let himself drift off to sleep, hoping Stormie would do the same.  
  
But she didn't. She just closed her eyes sadly and adjusted her head that she might whisper into his ear, "I'm leaving next week, Knives. If you won't fight this, how can you expect me too? It's making things worse...you ignoring everything that happened and telling me to get over it. I'm trying. But...I think I'd be better by myself...if - if only for a little while..."  
  
And still, he had not heard.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The group is splitting up!! Oh no!! Well, next chapter will be happier - I don't want too much angst... Review. 


	10. Letters to home

Dear Knives,  
  
I've started at least two dozen letters to you, all of which had no end - and not much of a beginning for that matter. Man...I don't know what to say to you. Hi. How have you been? It's been two years. Two looong years. I walked by your house the other day. Do you and Vash still live together? Oh, sorry, stupid question. Why wouldn't you? I almost stopped to say hello, but I just decided to deliver this letter instead. Something tells me you wouldn't like the person I've become.  
  
I guess I should apologize for just taking off like I did. I wanted to tell you, but I was - what's the word I'm looking for? - ashamed, maybe? I don't really know, except I was a little scared of what you might think. Wow, I bet you're pretty mad, huh?  
  
Naoshi has been pretty quiet a while. He's probably slinking around somewhere. Maybe he's dead. I don't buy all that crap. He's out there, and I think I've built up the courage to do something about it. I'm not saying I'm going to duke it out with the guy, but hey, if that's what it comes to, I'm not backing down. He basically shattered my mind - just tore it down without any problem whatsoever. I don't know why I'm telling you this. I guess I have to tell someone - anyone - heaven knows I'd never say this to your face. There are things he did to me that I blocked out... I just tried to forget them because they were too painful. But last year, those things began resurfacing in nightmares... I wish you could hear me sighing right now.  
  
I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking of you. I hope you're thinking about me. Tell Vash I said hi and I miss him. Tell him I'm sorry that his friend's kid, that Billy girl, is missing, and that I'm sorry the disappearance broke up Meryl's marriage with that Vincent guy. He seemed nice. I got to be going now. Things to do, places to be, people to see - you know the drill. Hey, look, I finished this letter, and I think I'll actually send it! That's pretty cool.  
  
Love,  
  
Stormie  
  
P.S. Naoshi raped me.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Meryl, I'm really worried about him," Vash commented, standing at the kitchen window, a dish in hand as he scrubbed industriously at the left over food caked on. "He's been awfully quiet ever since he got that letter from Stormie. And he won't let me read it."  
  
Meryl had been basically living in Stormie's old home ever since the girl had disappeared with not so much as a warning word. And she didn't want to talk about Knives. Sitting at the kitchen table, sipping at her coffee and looking very tired, she replied, "Maybe Knives is just being a typical jerk, as I believe we can all classify him, and is just being moody. Either that or he is pining over that Stormie chick."  
  
Vash turned to give her a goofy grin, rubbing at the back of his head. "Come on, I don't think he's that much of a jerk anyway. He's pretty good even, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"He is better, I'll give him that. How'd you fix him anyway?"  
  
Now Vash's smile faded into a frown, and he looked away, seeming to be recalling painful memories. "Gee, Meryl, everything comes with a price, you know? Haha... I mean, Knives isn't the kind of guy to just change for no reason... I had to give him a reason."  
  
"Vash, you ok?"  
  
"Yeah, sure, sure. It's just...." He trailed off, brow furrowed.  
  
"You don't have to tell me."  
  
"No, I want to. You see, about a week after you left, I started taking him into town to see the people. You know, it was sort of a 'Hey, look, people aren't so bad' thing, but it really turned out breaking both of our hearts... I was thinking of Nick so I took him to an orphanage and of course he hated the kids, hated the whole thing. But there was this one... It was a little girl named Marissa and she loved Knives - I mean, she LOVED him. She brought him gifts and made him things and even when he kept on ignoring her, she still clung to him. Then there was this little boy, who was every bit just like Knives. He hated people so much... It was little Marissa's older brother. His name was Toby. I often wonder what happened to that little boy..."  
  
"Vash," Meryl said warily, her voice almost fearful, "what happened?"  
  
Vash didn't answer for a long time. His hands clutched at the edge of the sink, his head bowed. Green eyes disappeared beneath his eyelids as he let them close in reflection. Then, breathing deeply, he tentatively explained.  
  
~~~~~  
  
~*~Flashback~*~  
  
Knives was sulking in the corner, as usual, trying to stay clear of the curious touches of the children that often crowded around him, eager for affection. He despised their grubby fingers for clutching at his honored personage. How dare they not realize how superior he was!  
  
In the middle of the room, Vash sat, surrounded on all sides by loving children who were more than happy to launch themselves into his open arms. They often wondered why his look-alike wasn't near as friendly to them. Only Marissa, a cute little brunette, was brave enough to venture over his way. Even at the moment she was standing beside him, offering him a paper flower she had made.  
  
"Come on, kids! Not so rough, eh?" joked Vash, tumbling onto his back and moaning in mock pain. "Wow, you guys are going to be the death of me!"  
  
A chorus of frantic voices assured him they wanted him to live a million years more so they could always play with him.  
  
Suddenly, a scream pierced the air. It was shrill, a little girl by the sounds of it.  
  
"Toby's got a gun!" exclaimed another voice, this time a boy.  
  
Vash tried to whirl around in disbelief, but the children on top of him kept him pinned to the ground. Surely this couldn't be true. Little Toby was often angry and reserved, but to come in with a gun? It was absurd! He just couldn't believe it.  
  
Until a spray of bullets mixed with the multitude of screams shattered the dry desert air.  
  
Vash threw the children off him and rose onto his knees, looking this way and that desperately. He saw just a blur of the boy holding the gun, firing randomly, perhaps not even aiming at a specific target, and then his thoughts turned to the safety of the kids around him. He looked back and forth in a panic, spotting the doorway to another room nearby. Hardly thinking about his actions, he swung up two of the younger girls in his arms and screamed for the others to follow, ushering them into the next room with his head bowed, using his body as a shield for the children to the best of his abilities. He got them all, the ten of them, to the destination, unharmed.  
  
"Get away from the door!" he screamed, and the oldest boy, a thirteen year old, helped to hustle the younger into a far corner. It was then that Vash stopped and stared at the scene before him. Ten very frightened orphans all huddled together, most crying, scared they would lose their lives. He felt so scared himself - scared for them and for...  
  
"KNIVES!" he cried, remembering that his brother was in the other room. He ran to the door, stopped himself just before doing something rash, and listened for any kind of a reply.  
  
And then there came silence.  
  
The gunfire had stopped.  
  
Cautiously, he peeked his head around the doorway, seeing a plain, sparsely decorated room in disarray, bullet holes in the walls, ceiling, a few of the toys, and even in a shattered window. The gun lay abandoned on the floor, Toby standing beside it, absolutely horrified at his actions. His body was rigid and straight, blue eyes wide with disbelief.  
  
Vash turned his head to look for Knives, spotting him kneeling in the same corner with his head down, staring at a bundle in his arms. Cradled gently against his chest was a little girl, blood splattered across the back of her white shirt. She was limp, dead, shot between the shoulder blades. Shot by her own brother.  
  
Marissa...  
  
Vash's eyes filled with tears as he looked first at Toby, who had began to silently cry, and then at his own brother. Knives merely looked confused, as if he didn't understand, and then a new expression dawned slowly on his face, one of disgust, one that showed he was definitely feeling sick. His eyes lifted from the lifeless child in his arms and met Vash's. His pale blue eyes were cold as ice.  
  
Vash winced, expecting this to only worsen his brother's condition. No doubt he would use the death of Marissa to illustrate how horrible humans could be, even the children.  
  
"Look at this, Vash," he said in such a dead voice it was eerie. "Look at what has happened. Shot by her own brother. He loved his sister, didn't he? He said he'd protect her. But he hurt her so bad..."  
  
Toby had crumpled to the ground now, dissolving into tears and sobs. "I-it w-w-was an a-a-accident!" he wailed. "I never th-thought M-Marissa would g- g-get hurt! I didn't mean to! I didn't see her!"  
  
Knives watched the boy seemingly without sympathy. "I see."  
  
A salty droplet trickled down Vash's pale cheek, vision blurring as his eyes filled to the brim with tears. Through his watery vision, he saw his brother carefully rolling the little girl over so he could see her face. Blood had dribbled from her mouth, dark red and sticky, and her eyes were closed. Even in death she was such a beautiful little girl.  
  
"I've killed a lot of these humans, Vash," he whispered, tenderly touching Marissa's now cold cheek. "And I've never done it with my own hands. I never had to see one die..."  
  
"I know, Knives, I know," Vash began taking unconscious steps towards his shivering twin, gulping down a lump in his throat.  
  
"She was shot by her own brother!" cried Knives, this time in a broken, sorrowful tone. "Vash, she was just standing there, and then she was dead, shot by her own BROTHER!"  
  
"He didn't mean it, Knives, he didn't want her to die," Vash tried to hush his sibling, kneeling beside him with hands on his shoulders. "It's gonna be alright."  
  
"No, it's not! IT'S NOT! You can't just do something like this without a punishment, a consequence!"  
  
Toby had stopped crying, just sniffling and choking on his cries as he lay face down on the ground, shaking uncontrollably.  
  
"Vash, don't you see what he did?! Look at her! She's dead! He killed her! He killed her! How could you kill your own sister?! How could you kill someone like Marissa?! Look around you, Vash! This is what I've been saying all along! These humans...look at the destruction, the hate they breed... Who could ever do something like this...?"  
  
"You could..."  
  
Vash gasped. Those words hadn't come from his mouth, had they? They had been his thoughts. But the voice wasn't his.... He turned to look over his shoulder at Toby, who was still sprawled out on the ground, his head raised to look at Knives, tear-stained face firm and defiant.  
  
Knives clenched his jaw.  
  
"They say you've killed people, Knives," he murmured. "You've killed lots of people. Little girls like Marissa."  
  
Vash was torn between feeling extreme anguish and confusion. "How...how did you know that, Toby?"  
  
"I've heard of him...from a blue-haired man...who killed my parents..." The boy hesitated. "He let me and Marissa go...and he started to cry...and all he kept saying was, 'Master...Knives...don't make me do it anymore...'. And I just... I just knew when I saw him." Toby laid his head back down and said nothing more.  
  
"This is - this is absurd!" babbled Knives, thrusting the dead body of the girl from his lap and pushing himself back further into the corner. He was nearly foaming at the mouth, going wild. "IT'S INSANE, VASHU!! TO COMPARE ME TO SOMEONE WHO WOULD SHOOT THEIR OWN...THEIR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD! I - I - I DID! I DID IT, VASH! I SHOT YOU!"  
  
"Shh, shh," he tried to comfort the other, but at the same time, he was sobbing.  
  
"I'M NO DIFFERENT! I'M THE SAME!"  
  
"Knives, it's ok..."  
  
And then Knives was clinging to his brother, crying with all the hatred and chaos and regret that he felt evident in his voice. "I'm sorry, Vashu," he whispered, shaking his head frantically. "I'm so sorry..."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Meryl saw tears dripping from Vash's eyes, and slowly looked away, unable to cope with the emotional turmoil he was in. It was painful, hearing of a little girl being shot when she herself had lost her own child. Billy had simply disappeared without a trace. "And...that changed him?"  
  
"Yes. Not immediately, but it helped."  
  
"I'm sorry, Vash."  
  
"So am I. The cost was very high."  
  
~~~~~  
  
"There."  
  
"Only seven of us left?"  
  
"Only seven of us could be tracked. Now, this is a list of only those of pure blood. There are a few half-breeds out there."  
  
"Yeah, I noticed Oriole wasn't on the list."  
  
"So that makes Naoshi's murders rank up among the...?"  
  
"I don't know. Hundreds, maybe? The plant population never was very large."  
  
"Gotchya. Ok, I know two of these plants personally. They're not willing to fight. Cross Vash and Knives off the list for now."  
  
"Alright.... That leaves us with only three to track down. I know where the female is. You go after the males. Ok?"  
  
"Hold up, Desma, do you know anything about these two? I mean, don't tell me I have to bust them out of a plant? Please tell me they're walking around, not in some bulb. I mean, I'll even take rowdy desert murderers, but I really do have a problem with factories..."  
  
"Bad memories?"  
  
"Something of the sort."  
  
"Storm, you want to do this, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then you can't let this bother you. I'll give you the addresses. You break them out. And if it doesn't kill ya, you'll come out stronger, got it?"  
  
"Very funny, you big moron. Alright. I'll do it."  
  
"Good. See you tomorrow, then."  
  
Stormie nodded and took her leave, hurrying out the door of the old dusty shack and leaving behind her new partner, a young male plant who was an expert in the killing field. Without wasting a moment, she climbed into her jeep, jerked it into reverse, backed away from the house, and sped off across the sand without a backwards glance.  
  
Someday soon, she promised herself, adjusting her sunglasses, there'd by blood soaking through the very sand she was riding on now. And it wouldn't be hers this time.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Keep reviewing - thanx for the encouragement. I'll try to work more action in, but I don't want to rush the story. 


	11. Liberating the Plants

Here was my attempt to add in a little more action...  
  
~~~~~~  
  
The alarms had not gone off.  
  
She was getting better at breaking into things.  
  
Stormie raced down the first runway and then swung sharply to the right, dashing up a flight of steel steps. Her almost cautious steps eerily echoed in the dark, empty halls of the plant, an open map in her hands, which she glanced upon every now and then to assure she would not get lost. A flashlight was clenched between her teeth, a pack of supplies on her back.  
  
There!  
  
She stopped, seeing a row of doors before her. Now, it was just a matter of finding the right one. Consulting the map again, she made her decision and strode towards the third, kneeling before it and beginning to pick the lock. Security guards were roaming the place, so if she didn't act fast, the two plants she was supposed to be freeing wouldn't be going anywhere. In time, the latch clicked and she swung it open, finding that the room within was even darker than the dusty halls outside. Moonlight from the windows filtered in and glanced upon the two bulbs, which sat side by side, alighting on the sleeping plants ever so slightly. Yup, two males, just like Desma had said. But how to get them out? The bulbs were highly evolved, and liberating them was going to be tricky. She closed the door and locked it, dashing to the computer. If only she could unlock the code...  
  
It took her nearly half an hour, but Desma had taught her a few things, and the disengaging process began. She watched the bulbs begin to power up, ready to expel the plants within, and then she saw the system freeze, and saw that this wasn't working.  
  
It made her angry. She'd come so far, and now these petty problems were messing with her? She'd get back at Naoshi, and she'd do it with the help of these captive plants.  
  
Both were still asleep, peacefully floating in their own little worlds, enveloped by angel wings, and she felt almost guilty for disturbing their rest with the only intention of asking them to fight for her and for others. Her cause was hardly noble.  
  
Picking up her chair, she lifted it over her head and slammed it into the bulb, barely cracking it. Again and again she slammed into it, gritting her teeth and growling at how hard it was. And then it broke, shattering within, and the liquid began to spill out. For good measure, she bashed in a large hole, and the whole front caved in, spewing out all its contents. Moments later, a man lay on the floor in a puddle of fluid, sprawled out on his side and slowly stirring. He was tall and broad-shouldered, obviously strong and perhaps as aged as she, and had blonde hair cut just at the nape of his neck. He was unclothed, shivering in his new, colder atmosphere, and she made sure to clear the glass away from him with her toe before moving on and freeing the next man.  
  
He was much younger with such platinum blonde hair that it appeared a silvery white in the dark. It tumbled down his bare back in slight waves. He opened scared, wild blue eyes and turned them on her immediately, shaking either in fatigue or fear.  
  
His older companion was sitting up and holding his head, trying to find his voice by clearing his throat and coughing.  
  
She knelt down before them and drew two pairs of clothes out of her pack, regarding the two doubtfully. The older man was tall and thickly muscled, his pale face already turning red as he stared intently at the clothes in her hands, obviously wanting them. She supposed the larger pair of pants and shirt would fit him. But the boy...she hadn't expected him to be so young. He was very thin as well, and she doubted anything she had would be the right size. In the end, she tossed him the smallest items of clothing she had brought and handed the larger to the eagerly waiting man. "Get dressed," she commanded. "We're getting out of here."  
  
The elder seemed excited and hurriedly pulled on the pants, stumbling to his feet while avoiding the shards of the broken bulb. Spurred on by the other's actions, the boy, who she estimated to only be about a year old, though he looked like he was ten in human years, followed suit.  
  
Once dressed, the boy's clothes sagging on him horribly, Stormie motioned for them to be silent. "I'm a plant - you can trust me," she said gruffly. "We're going to get out of here, but you have to be quick and quiet and follow my lead, got it?"  
  
They nodded.  
  
She waved a hand, motioning that they should follow, and ran out into the hall, down the flight of steps, and through a corridor, all without pause. Not used to the physical exertion, they lagged slightly behind.  
  
A guard passed by just before Stormie ran out into him, causing the woman to jerk back around the corner and shoot out an arm that the others might not pass. Once he was gone, she proceeded to walk at a slower pace down the last flight of stairs, smirking at how the boy was grasping onto the railing, as if he was afraid of tumbling down and breaking his neck.  
  
"Almost home free," she encouraged him, and he smiled back at her innocently.  
  
In the next five seconds, he shot about two feet up into the air with a yelp and dashed down the rest of the stairs, sent into a panic by the wailing siren that suddenly went off.  
  
Stormie's heart leapt in fear itself and she nearly tripped. Well, actually, she did trip, but the plant behind her reached out his hand and grabbed the back of her shirt, saving her from a nasty fall. "They found out we're here," she explained loudly, struggling to be heard over the alarm. "I suppose we should - where'd the other one go?"  
  
"He ran," replied the man gruffly, his voice sounding irritated and just a bit sour.  
  
"What?! Ok, ok - you go out that back door down there and there should be a jeep behind the dumpster. Just get in the back and wait while I retrieve the boy."  
  
"If you're not out there in five minutes, I'm leaving without you."  
  
"It's my car!" she exclaimed, already not appreciating his attitude problem. She didn't get to say much more to him, for he was off like a shot and bolting into the desert night. She continued on down the hall, dodging the near clueless security, and located the scared plant huddled up in a small corner, rolled into a ball. "Come on, kid," she tried to reassure him. "It's ok - your friend's already out in the car. He's waiting for us." She took him by the hand, and from the look on his youthful face, round and pale and fine-featured, he seemed to trust her.  
  
She smiled again, pulling him to his feet, and the next thing either of them knew, the wall just past his head had dented swiftly and with a sudden explosion of thunder. Another bullet whizzed past the boy's head, and he cried and ducked in fear. She threw herself to the ground, dragging him along, and then rolled over, looking for the enemy.  
  
A security guard was glaring at them from behind a shiny revolver, the gun aimed for Stormie's head.  
  
She threw the boy away from her and raised her hands, showing she was weaponless. And when he began to approach, her left arm whipped out before her, palm facing outward, fingers spread, as if it was a sign to stop, but he ignored it. Ice blue eyes narrowed.  
  
"Don't move!" warned the man. He never suspected her to be a plant.  
  
On one knee, arm outstretched, Stormie bade her time, waiting until the very last second. The boy, still huddled in a corner, sunken into his much- too-big clothes, watched in awe as Stormie's shirt sleeve suddenly erupted, feathers bursting out of her shoulder blade. The angel arm cannon appeared in only a matter of seconds where her hand should've been, and the guard stumbled back almost in slow motion. But it was too late. The blast caught him unprepared, at the same time throwing Stormie back against the wall with its power. She had not been ready either, having released the power prematurely while in the act of rising.  
  
After the light had faded, she sat up, found her arm back to normal, hanging limply at her side with shirt in shreds about the one shoulder. The mangled man lay not far away, and she looked on him briefly. It's not like she regretted it.  
  
"Come on," she beckoned, taking the boy's hand once more and beginning to walk calmly through the halls, which still echoed with the screams of the siren. Lights flashed, turning her fair skin red every other second. And they said nothing of the killing, the angel arm, or anything else.  
  
She led him back out to the jeep at a brisk jog, finding, just as she had expected, the man lounging in the back seat.  
  
"It's about time," he said, growling when the boy hopped in next to him.  
  
Stormie slammed the door and buckled herself into the driver's seat, turning the key in the ignition. "Off we go, Mr. Forks," she said in a mock cheery voice.  
  
"What'd you call me?" Her personal joke had put the man on the defensive.  
  
"I have a friend - well, not really a friend - but his name is Knives, and he's got your rotten attitude, so I make fun of him by calling him Mr. Forks."  
  
"I don't get it..."  
  
"His name is Knives."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So, what are you guys called?"  
  
The boy in the back immediately leapt up at the chance to talk, seizing forward and leaning over the front seat, long hair streaming back in the wind. "They called me Eleven," he volunteered, smiling at her sweetly. His voice was soft and satisfied.  
  
"You were born in the plant?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh, so this is quite the experience for you, huh? What happened to your parents?"  
  
"My mom died in the plant, so..."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"And my dad is - "  
  
"Worried that you're going to fall out of the car. Sit down." The elder plant had crossed him arms loosely over his broad chest, scowling at Eleven in displeasure. When the boy obediently settled back beside him, he smacked him lightly in the back of the head. "Buckle in too."  
  
"Why are you so grouchy?" Stormie demanded, glancing over her shoulder to see that Eleven was struggling with his seat belt, his tongue sticking out slightly in his concentration. The older was watching him like a hawk, head turned so that she could only view his profile. He was pretty cute, she had to admit, even with his snobby personality. He was a lot more rugged looking than Knives, his nose straighter, eyes a bit slanted, jaw stronger, and lips fuller. "And are you saying that your the kid's father?"  
  
He looked at her sharply, emerald eyes glinting. "That's what I'm told."  
  
"Wow, how'd that happen?" she mused, and when he began to reply, she hushed him quickly with, "It was a rhetorical question! And what is YOUR name?"  
  
Begrudgingly, he told her, "My name is Mitayo. What should I call you?"  
  
"Stormie."  
  
"Pretty name," complimented Eleven.  
  
She grinned. "Thanks. You know, Eleven, I have a daughter around your age."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yup. Her name is Faith."  
  
The rest of the ride home was silent.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Mitayo took his time getting out of the car when they reached Stormie's house, a simple one-story building. He rolled out and lazily stretched his arms and legs, aware that his son and their rescuer had gone on inside already. Then, taking his good time, he strolled after them and into the open door.  
  
"Hey, mom!" called a girl around Eleven's age, running out to meet them. She was a bit on the short side, and, much to Mitayo's surprise, looked nothing like Stormie. For one thing, her hair was snow white, and for another, her eyes were two different colors. The left was powder blue, and the right was deep violet. She ran to her mother and hugged her, ignoring the visitor's for the moment. "You said you'd be back about an hour ago! I thought something happened!"  
  
"Sorry - it took longer than I thought," Stormie sheepishly apologized. "But look what we have here. Some guests. This is Eleven - " She pulled the boy by his shoulders over to stand before her " - and this is his father, Mitayo." She gestured the man behind her. "Take Eleven back to your room and show him your new toys. I have to talk to his father."  
  
Faith nodded and grabbed the boy by the hand, grinning almost evilly out him. "We'll have fun," she promised with a wink, causing the boy to gulp down a lump in his throat just before being dragged after her.  
  
Mitayo watched the children leave and then turned to Stormie, the scowl melting off his face. "Why'd you bring us here?"  
  
"Oh, are you ready to be nice to me now then?" she demanded, fisted hands on her hips.  
  
A hint of annoyance crept back into his tone. "What?"  
  
"You're were being pretty rude before. You were even mean to your poor son."  
  
"Maybe I was a bit - um - confused?" He spread his arms out with a flourish, one brow arched. "Embarrassed?"  
  
"Embarrassed?!" she sputtered, not comprehending his meaning. And then, looking at him, standing there with his head bowed and his arms crossed tightly, she understood. And she laughed, loudly and rudely. "You're embarrassed because when I broke you out of the bulb, you weren't wearing anything! Oh, that's hilarious! For goodness sake, Mitayo, I'm a doctor! It's not like you're the first naked man I've seen before!"  
  
"It's not funny!" he cried, and then whirled around, his back facing her. "At least I have some decency. You probably wouldn't care. Now, are you going to tell me for what reason you are putting me through all of this?!"  
  
Stifling the last of her laughter, she strode over to the kitchen. "Sit down and I'll tell you," she invited, pulling out a chair for herself and waiting for him to do the same. Once both were comfortable at the table, she cleared her throat. "Listen, I can tell you're an impatient man, so I'll get to the heart of the matter. The plants are being killed off slowly, one by one. Our race will soon disappear if nothing is done."  
  
Mitayo's voice was softer now, more tolerant. "Who is killing them?"  
  
"A single man. A half-breed. His name is Naoshi."  
  
"And you want us to help you stop him?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Mitayo remained silent, staring at his hands, one resting on top of the other on the table's surface. His brow was furrowed in contemplation, blonde hair gently draping over his narrowed eyes in fringes. "I see. You know that Eleven will be of now use to you in a fight."  
  
"I know that. Neither will Faith."  
  
"What of Faith's father? Is he plant?"  
  
Stormie gave a short, little sarcastic laugh. "Faith's father is the one we're trying to kill. Naoshi. The plant assassin. He has this nasty little habit of going around raping the female plants before he kills them. I'm just a survivor. " She smiled at him smugly, seeing that she was making him obviously uncomfortable. "I didn't ask for Faith - she's just a good thing that happened after the worst night of my life."  
  
"Hmm..." he looked away from her, fiddling with his shirt sleeve. "I never asked for Eleven either."  
  
"Well, dear, I'm assuming that your situation isn't as bad as mine."  
  
"No, no, I'm not saying that..." He kept glancing away from her, as if ashamed. No longer was he cocky and rude, just a bit uncomfortable and soft-spoken. Nervously, he bit his lip. "I was incorporated into a sort of selective breeding program at the plant. I suppose they realized we were becoming far and few, and...that's where Eleven came from. I never really even knew his mother... She was quite a bit younger than me, I suppose. Very unhappy." He sighed. "I never asked for a kid. I'm not the fatherly type, I'm sure you can see, and I didn't have to be his dad or anything at the plant. But now...now I have to take care of someone other than myself. Is it as hard as it seems?"  
  
"Not when you get the hang of it." Stormie rose from her seat and patted him on the shoulder on her way out. "Don't worry about it, Mitayo. You help me, I'll help you. I'm going to check on the kids now."  
  
He remained seated, as if frozen in his spot, glumly staring at the flickering candle in the middle of the table. The flame danced and tottered, just on the edge of life, and it captivated him. He hadn't seen fire in a while.  
  
"FAITH!" screeched a woman's voice from down the hall.  
  
Mitayo jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over in surprise.  
  
"UNTIE THAT BOY NOW!"  
  
Gasping, he took off down the hall to assist his son, who, from the sounds of it, was obviously in need of help.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives had packed his bags, had left a note, had made up his mind. He borrowed Vash's old ship suit, which he had patched up, and then his brother's red trench coat over that. He put on his shoes, a pair of sunglasses, and grabbed his gun. With a bag of supplies slung over his shoulder, he began to walk away.  
  
Naoshi had raped her.  
  
His face was set in a firm scowl of determination. When Stormie had come home injured, he had done nothing, had held off, even though Grayfall told him to resist, to fight. He had been a coward, and she had left because of it.  
  
Well, now he had made a decision. He would kill Naoshi.  
  
He would do it alone.  
  
He would do it for Stormie.  
  
~~~~~  
  
I need more reviews!! MORE!! lol Newayz, tell me if you have any ideas. 


	12. Face off

Hey, thanx to everyone who reviewed and major thanks to anyone who has me in their favorites!!!  
  
Rockerbaby: You're such a faithful reviewer! THANK YOU!! You have great suggestions and I will work that Stormie/Knives thing in later on.  
  
Zetsumei: Aww, thanx! Back on your review for chapter ten, you said this is possible your favorite story. I hope that still stands and you still enjoy it. I'm always up for your suggestions.  
  
Jeril Dragonsoul: Thanks for reviewing different chapters in individual reviews instead of just leaving one big review on the latest chapter. That's nice. Haha. I know, isn't Faith a devil? What can you expect though - Stormie is raising her.  
  
Subaiku85: I keep trying to work action in!!  
  
Oh, and the song Stormie and Faith sing (I'm forgettable), is a Brak song - I didn't make it up and I don't own it.  
  
As for the story, I have two words to say: Surprise, surprise...  
  
~~~~~  
  
Naoshi slammed the front door to his house, if only to vent some of his anger. Since it didn't help as much as he had thought, he re-opened it and threw it closed once more. Then, he kicked it. Those plants had all holed up somewhere, listening to their instincts that danger was coming just like the animals they were.  
  
Either that or someone had gotten to them first...  
  
"Naoshi, what's all this noise?" demanded a voice from the next room, shortly followed by the appearance of a young woman, her dark hair hanging at shoulder's length, misty blue eyes full of spite - as usual. Her small hand swiped a black tress from her round, pale face, and she frowned at him. "What are you doing?"  
  
He turned around and simply glared at her. After two years, the plant assassin had still not changed, in appearance or in attitude. His large hands were clenched at his sides, one fisted in his black cape, and both multi-colored eyes were narrowed.  
  
"Taking out your anger on the door again?" the woman demanded.  
  
"The plants are in hiding," he growled, helplessness and anger constricting his voice. "I - I don't understand! Where could they all be?! Even Grayfall and Oriole seemed to have dropped off the face of this planet..."  
  
"Well, alright. Kick the door as much you want then," she sniffed, turning her back to him in indifference. "Just so long as it's not me." She was just walking away when a little boy, looking to be about five, pushed past her and ran to Naoshi, silently reaching up his arms to his father. Naoshi stooped down and picked up the child, seeming to let go of his anger for the moment, tense facial expression going lax.  
  
"Billy," he said, addressing the boy's mother, "what ever happened to those plants that lived in the house you came from?"  
  
She shrugged. "Who cares?" But the truth was, Billy cared. Very much. She had wanted to go home so often - and Naoshi had said that she could leave any time she pleased. He didn't care. But how could she go home to admit she'd been living with the plant assassin all on her own accord? AND that they had a son. She could never face her parents again.  
  
The boy's name was Vincent, after her father. He didn't real look like his name, she had to admit - a thick head of black hair, one blue eye, one purple one, and fine, impish features. He was too darling for the name, sweet and quiet. In reality, he was a little under a year old, but because of the slight amount of plant blood coursing through his veins, he had grown faster than an average human - about five times faster.  
  
"I went back to their house, and it was deserted," Naoshi continued to muse, ruffling the boy's hair and slowly roaming the room, pacing. "It's so strange."  
  
"Hmm. So you don't know where ANY plants are?" Billy usually hoped that Naoshi could find his next killing soon. Otherwise he was stressed until he did. She could hardly wait until the plant race was extinct. Too bad the factories and towns would suffer.  
  
"I know where some are. But I hafta get something out of the house before I kill them."  
  
"And what would that be?" Billy wandered over to the man's side, sitting down and leaning her head onto his shoulder. Her eyes drifted shut as she sighed, trying to remember back before she had cut herself off from everyone else save Naoshi. He was strong, and usually honest with her. He came home every night and treated his family well. They had many luxuries. It wasn't so bad...was it?  
  
Naoshi didn't answer for a while. Their son had quickly fallen asleep in his arms, cradled against his chest. His love for the child went undoubted. He pressed his lips briefly to the boy's forehead. "You'll see."  
  
~~~~~  
  
When Mitayo woke up the next morning, he barely had the energy to even roll off the couch and crawl into the kitchen. He was weak from living life in the bulb, and even though they had taken him out for an exercise regimen every day, he still wasn't up to such wild chases and all night planning. However, he was also starving, which was enough incentive to haul him into the next room and over to the table.  
  
Stormie was cooking pancakes with Faith, both wearing matching aprons. Poor kid, observed Mitayo as he watched them both trill the same song at the top of their lungs, she's isolated the girl so much that she thinks this sort of behavior is acceptable in the presence of company.  
  
Eleven was sitting across from him, anxiously kicking his feet out and drawing in a deep, excited breath every few moments. The smell of home- cooked food excited him, and by the time the two females had set the plate before him, he was practically bouncing up and down in anticipation.  
  
"How many do you want?" Stormie demanded, pausing by Mitayo's side and smiling. Her hair had been tied up in a messy pony tail, half of it falling out. He also noticed that she had tied back Eleven's long hair at his slender shoulders with a band. "Two?"  
  
He waved a hand in dismissal, dully eyeing the breakfast once it was in front of him.  
  
"This is really good!" said Eleven, who was much more friendly than his sire. Warily, he looked to Stormie's daughter and smiled weakly, still recovering from being drafted into her 'magic show' the previous night. Tentatively, he stated, "You're not a half-bad cook, Faith."  
  
The girl struck a silly pose and sighed contemptuously. "I know."  
  
Mitayo's eyebrow twitched in irritation. These people were never serious!  
  
As if Stormie sensed his aggravation, she grabbed her daughter's hand, twirled her around, and the two began to waltz around the table, laughing and singing. "I'm forgettable...that's what I am... I'm forgettable...something, something...ham..."  
  
Eleven giggled behind his hand. He'd been given a shirt that fit better, one of Faith's more boyish ones, actually, but the pants were the fated item he was stuck with. To make it easier on him, Stormie had hemmed the legs so they weren't so long and had given him a belt, but he still looked depressingly small in them, as if he was lost in a sea of fabric.  
  
"My mom forgot me in a shopping cart - I was raised by the stock boys...Clam and Art... Do you remember our last dance? I never wanted to switch pants...with you...but we did...and now you have my keys...!"  
  
Stormie released Faith and then sat down to eat, only to be disturbed by the doorbell. Faith ran to answer and returned with a man who was most likely plant, though it was hard to tell. He was young, a bit on the short, wiry side, and had chosen to die his hair a flaming red with golden highlights that looked anything but natural. It was worn in a longer version of a crew cut, and he smiled at them, waving his hand.  
  
Stormie did much the same, saying through a mouthful of food, "Oh, hi, Desma."  
  
"I got her," said Desma, brown eyes glancing back and forth between Mitayo and Eleven. "You were successful too."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good. Hey, I can't stay long, Desiree - that's her name - will get edgy out in the car. We're on our way into town, and I just wanted to see how you did. Let's meet up tonight, ok?"  
  
"Uh-huh, cowboy. Whatever you say." Stormie was apparently more interested in stuffing her face than listening to the weapons expert, scarfing down her pancakes at an alarming rate that could've beat even Vash. "Listen, we'll drop by your house and we'll put our heads together and brief good ole' Mitayo here."  
  
"Alrighty then. I'll let myself out."  
  
"Bye, Desma."  
  
And he was gone. Mitayo was a little uncomfortable. They had busted him out for one reason and one reason only - to fight. He was nervous, unsure of his sparring capabilities. He'd been in the plant almost his whole life, and had never even thrown a punch. Heck, he didn't even know how to activate an 'angel arm' or whatever. How could he say no to them though? They were counting on him, not to mention holding his future in their hands.  
  
What was he supposed to do?  
  
Wait, that's what.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Desma's new freed plant friend, Desiree, was quite a bit older than anyone present, looking very wise and very sage and very elegant. Having been a nomad from the desert most of her life, she was surprisingly tall, slender, and aristocratic looking. A few wrinkles had been defined around her ice blue eyes, and her eyes looked old and mature, but other than that, she seemed very spry and strong.  
  
Stormie thought she looked like Knive's mother or something.  
  
Desiree had been Desma's partner in some sort of heist a few years ago in which they had decided to overtake a caravan and free the plants being transported. She was quite a rebel, so when he had come to her and asked for help, the woman had readily agreed.  
  
She, Desma, Mitayo, and Desiree talked for quite some time, arguing and lapsing into silence, and then arguing again, before the decision was reached. They would train intensively for the next month, seeing as how all were experienced save Mitayo, and then go after Naoshi. Stormie was also to try to fetch Knives and Vash, though she strongly rebuked it at first. However, she was the only one, and majority overcame her, and she eventually agreed, even if she had no idea where they were nowadays. She did, however, know of Grayfall and Oriole's residence. The two had been laying low, but had sent her a letter every few weeks or so, just to let her know how they were. She, in turn, had told them about Faith, and had even lived with them a few months after finding out she was pregnant.  
  
It'll be nice to see them again, she thought to herself as she and Mitayo headed out to the jeep.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives felt rather victorious. He'd tracked Naoshi all the way across the desert and two a small town he had never even heard of before. He imagined his brother was, at the moment, also tracking him, but he didn't care. He simply would explain it was something he had to do and Vash would understand.  
  
At the moment, he was sitting on a bench in the middle of town, relaxing before heading off to his next destination. A temple where he had heard Naoshi went to practice. Who know what it had once been used for? Some sort of worship, he supposed, but the plant assassin had taken it over and was putting it to good use. Every day he seemed to grow stronger.  
  
Knives finally was able to work up the courage to stand and leave that bench behind. With his pack on his back, he steadily started out to the ruins looming in the distance, one step after the other. That's how he had made it as far - just placing one foot forward and then the other.  
  
His heart began to rapidly beat. He was in the doorway now. He could hear some sort of battle cry echoing from inside. Surely it was Naoshi, probably throwing himself fiercely into his training.  
  
He gulped down a lump in his throat.  
  
He stepped inside.  
  
He continued to walk.  
  
And he saw him.  
  
Naoshi had set up a dummy in the middle of the mostly dark room, charging in and out of the shadows, disappearing and then being reborn from the darkness. He lunged at the target, propelling himself off some sort of stone block, and slashed down upon it with his sword, yelling a warrior's cry. And then, landing heavily on the ground, he stopped, sensing another's presence, and spotted Knives.  
  
Their eyes locked in hate and spite, Knives being the first to speak.  
  
"You are Naoshi, correct?"  
  
"Correct. You are a plant?"  
  
"How astute of you." Knives sat down his pack, eyeing his opponent warily. "Do you remember Stormie at all? Or is she just another faceless victim of yours?"  
  
"How could I forget her?" teased Naoshi cruelly, his mood lightening as if Knives' stupidity was enough to make him harmless. "Hmm... Actually, I do remember her - for special reasons... But I have no interest in talking to you."  
  
Before Knives even saw it coming, there was a blur of black and white hurling at him, tipped by a silver flash, and he barely had time to set up a barrier between himself and the danger. Naoshi hit the invisible wall and bounced off like a ball, landing on his feet about a yard away. He smirked, then charged again, but Knives jumped to the side, seized the assassin in a mental hold, and attempted to snap him in half.  
  
Naoshi's lithe body twisted easily with the invisible hands that held him, slipping through Knives' grasp like water. He circled round his prey, ducked into the shadows, and then reappeared behind the plant, trying to take him by surprise.  
  
Dizzily, Knives whirled to meet the attacker, but it was too late - the steel blade sunk into his shoulder, parting the flesh in a blinding amount of pain. Blood spurted out as the man tried to tear away from the weapon embedded in his arm, but it was near stuck. Desperately, he fought to free himself.  
  
Naoshi laughed, a cold, chilling sound that sickened Knives to the core. He enjoyed this. He enjoyed Knives' pain.  
  
The plant tore away and tried to lash out in return, but was again caught unguarded, sending him skidding across the floor and into a nearby wall. Naoshi calmly approached the weakened, trembling man, beginning to speak.  
  
"Stormie, you say? You know her then?"  
  
Knives lifted his head with great effort. It was so heavy; his vision had blurred. Faintly, he acknowledged Naoshi's figure moving closer, seeming to float, to glow like some apparition.  
  
"She is very special to me," Naoshi said quietly. "Even if she is a plant, she holds something dear. You see, I, unlike you and my father and every plant out there, care for my offspring. I take revenge upon your race, not my children, so when I learned of Stormie's daughter, I was, of course, shocked. No worries though, I'll have the child out of there in no time."  
  
Knives' eyes widened, his hands groping the ground as he struggled to push himself up. "What are you saying?" he whispered hoarsely.  
  
"I'm saying that I know what it's like to be a plant's child, and I will not let my own daughter suffer that!" he exclaimed, angered by Knives' failure to pick up on the message he was trying to convey. The sword was swung up over his head, ready to be brought down, but this time it missed Knives just by a hair.  
  
He stumbled away from the danger, fueled on by his hatred at this new information. It was all so jumbled in his head. Stormie had a daughter? Naoshi had the same daughter? He had come because of Naoshi's raping of Stormie - he had never imagined a child would be the product of the action. No, it wasn't right. No, it was too late now. No, he just couldn't tell her how he felt about her now...  
  
"NO!" he screamed, spiraling into a frantic fury. He seized the plant assassin with his mind and threw him up like a rag doll, making sure to let him go close by so that he fell through the air only to meet Knives' boot as he thrust his foot into his gut. Naoshi slammed roughly into the ground afterwards, rolling away and having a moment of vulnerability as he vomited blood. Knives just rolled up his sleeves and walked stiffly over, vision turning red, doubling, taking in the sight of Naoshi looking up at him and smiling through all the red fluid dripping from his lips.  
  
The plant assassin was barely phased.  
  
Knives was still too weak even for the next physical assault, and though he tried to gather his strength back up, Naoshi was intent on wearing him down. He came at him again, and again, and even when Knives' angel arm came into play, it just wasn't enough.  
  
Tortured, Knives' near broken body crumpled to the ground.  
  
Naoshi stood over him, sword in hand. "It shouldn't be a surprise," he said quietly. "I am part plant...and a plant's seed falls where it may..."  
  
Knives closed his eyes in defeat.  
  
"You never know where one's offspring will turn up in nature, do you?"  
  
It was all over... 


	13. Recoveries of the Mind and Body

Hey, guys, feeling down - but good news! School is out for me!! Sorry it took so long to get this written out, and I didn't check it too thoroughly, so sorry for the errors that are probably in here. Thanx to everyone who reviewed, especially Rockerbaby - I hope this chapter won't disappoint you. I've been feeling angsty lately.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Dreaming of happier things, images rippling and slowly tripping along in water colored shades, Grayfall was unaware of the things around him. Asleep, sprawled out across his small cot in the basement of an acquaintance's house, he let the visions of his past and present and even future take him to places he had been, and wished to be.  
  
He saw his mother, smiling and happy, talking without a sound leaving her mouth. These dreams were silent. A picture of Legato hidden in her drawer, one that he had glimpsed upon only once, and the way she would blush whenever she looked at, thinking her son couldn't see.  
  
A little boy, himself as a child, chasing the few butterflies that flitted about outside the small restaurant his mother worked out. Then older, lounging outside of his school with eyes closed and face turned to the warm sun, smiling when he heard a friend approaching, calling out his name.  
  
And then...thirteen. Just a boy. Sitting outside that hospital room. Waiting for his mom to come out so he could give her the belated birthday present - the heavy cross necklace. She never came. A doctor came instead and he took the boy by the hand and led him to another man without saying a word, and that man in turn took Grayfall to a strange home with strange people and he ran away. And he knew. She was dead.  
  
Naoshi was what happened next, but those thoughts never entered his mind. Instead, he chose a different path.  
  
Oriole was waiting tables, just as his mother had, her part-time job to pay her share of their rent. Black hair up in a ponytail, blue skirt and white blouse neatly pressed with her apron already stained with spilled soup. She was looking content nonetheless, smiling as she paused to call out to him from where he sat at the bar, sipping on coffee.  
  
There was that one time they had been invited to go on a picnic with some of her friends, and somehow, she had gotten his mother's cross necklace away from him. Of course he tried to get back, which only provoked a mad dash across the desert. It was...fun. Chasing her and yelling out that he was going to kill her with no actual intention to carry out the threats, although she screamed in delight at every warning. Vaguely, the two of them had remembered doing this as a kid, a game of tag and keep away, running from a friend and just knowing that being caught would be about half the fun. He could've lost himself in that afternoon, just running after her like he had nothing more to worry about than getting back that necklace and hoping that she never tired so the game could last forever. But, eventually, she did slow down, panting for breath, and he tackled her just over a sand dune, the two rolling down the incline and laughing all the way, continuing to wrestle for possession of the necklace.  
  
"I'm going to hurt you now, you little thief!" he growled, pinning her shoulders to the grainy sand beneath them.  
  
A devilish glint was in her eye, but she broke into a fit of giggles all the same. "I - I - I don't - " she tried to speak, but was laughing too hard. "Stop! I'm really..."  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Ah..." A look of understanding passed over his face, and he then raised a hand, flexing his fingers like claws. "Ticklish, then?"  
  
"Grayfall! NO!"  
  
It really had ended much too soon.  
  
He was just preparing to think of more happy thoughts when someone else's visions overshadowed his, the blotches slowly darkening and then turning into images that weren't his in any way, shape, or form. He saw a little girl with shaggy, black hair huddled in the corner, blood splattered across her pale face as her small frame shook with uncontrollable tremors. A dark shadow was approaching her, and without warning, white, searing pain flashed through Grayfall's mind, momentarily blinding him before fading away into shrieks and screams of anguish. He saw, through the flames of a blazing fire, a figure stumbling and running through the ashes. So many images interrupting...it just didn't make sense.  
  
A wolf.  
  
The swish of raven hair. Dark brown globes, laced with hazel - tear- filled.  
  
Flowers, blooming purple and white in a field, consumed instantly by a rain of fire. Destroyed and leaving the field barren.  
  
The barrel of a gun being brought down upon a hand, the fingers twitching and spasming in pain, and then the finger joints being crushed, smashed, ground into shattered pieces beyond repair.  
  
Devilish smile. A sapphire and amethyst encased in porcelain.  
  
Blood. Slow drops plopping into a puddle of water, wisping into red ribbons in the otherwise clear liquid. A woman facedown in the water, the blood flowing from her temple, eyes cracked open, clouded with pain.  
  
Death in the dark skies...  
  
Grayfall awoke with a start, the fluttering of eyelashes lifting from sun- kissed cheeks being his only movement. A deep gasp was consumed in his throat and he stared into the darkness, seeing a face instead of empty air. Oriole, very close.  
  
She must've climbed into his bed after he had drifted off, and had made herself quite comfortable, lying on her side to face him, her forehead pressed lazily to his. One slightly damp palm was flat against his chest, the other hand lying between them, and her bare arms and calves and face were shiny with sweat, beads of perspiration gleaming like jewels in her raven tresses. Were the memories filtering into his mind from her? As an empath, she could sense others' emotions, and he had discovered that others' could sense hers while she slept. It seemed as if her nightmares were allowed to run rapid, unleashed and beyond her control.  
  
Gently, he shook her awake, and she stirred with a little moan. "Grayfall..." she murmured. "Don't. It's too early."  
  
"You were having nightmares."  
  
She propped herself up on an elbow in surprise. "Did I scream?"  
  
"No... Your thoughts bled into mine again."  
  
"Hmm. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." She yawned as if it was no big deal, settling down beside him once more. "Goodnight, Grayfall," she murmured, her fingers toying with the heavy cross that lay against his collarbone, her lips pressing to the spot right beside where it rested.  
  
He smiled ever so slightly, but the light didn't reach his golden eyes. It never did. He liked to find a sympathetic friend in Oriole. He enjoyed her company and was a fierce protector. But she could never make the past go away. Nor could he erase the memories of her father beating her, of her half-brother destroying her hand.  
  
"Goodnight," he said, and kissed her forehead. He fell asleep to the feel of her fingers trailing over the scars that striped his torso. The feeling always lulled him to sleep, although if anyone besides her dared touch him there, they'd be dead within the second.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Everything was blurry... Mellow white colors swirling together and blending. Cracks and dots and indentations raced alone, swirled, and then came back into focus, falling still. Where was...?  
  
"Knives...Knives...are you waking up?"  
  
That concerned voice - it was familiar. Vash. Things were coming more easily now. Knives blinked glazed over ice blue eyes and parted his lips to moan, raw hurt and pain coming back over him in a slow, steady, surge. There was a throbbing in his temples, an unbearable headache, and he shivered in trying to shake himself out of his stupor. "Vash?" he croaked.  
  
"Oh, good! I was so worried!"  
  
He squinted at his brother, finding that he was now in a small bed, probably in some hotel from the looks of it, with Vash sitting diligently beside him, looking worried and anxious. "Hey...where's Naoshi?"  
  
Vash's face went hard and stern. "Who cares?! How could you do something as stupid as go after him alone, Knives?! I was scared to death! And then I have to come and find you half dead with that killer standing over you, about to deliver the final blow..." Vash shook his head.  
  
"What...happened?"  
  
"He was already bored with you. When he saw me, he just grinned and took off. It was strange, really. But the real question is why? Why would you not tell me about this? Why would you even risk your life all the sudden? It's not like you! You're not impulsive! You plan!"  
  
"He raped Stormie."  
  
A heartbeat.  
  
"...Naoshi?"  
  
"Who else? They have a daughter." He moaned, covering his eyes with a hand in distress. "Vash, it's all my fault..."  
  
"I don't believe it." Vash's eyes were widened to the point where there was more white than green visible. His hands were clutched into fists on his knees. "I just saw her...and she didn't say anything."  
  
His twin immediately flew up in the bed, ignoring the nausea and pain. "You saw her?!"  
  
"Yeah, she was with this other guy and they had these two kids with them... A little blonde boy and a girl. They seemed happy - well the guy was a bit uptight, but he didn't seem unhappy. Aw, man! I should've guessed! The girl looks NOTHING like Stormie or her other kid OR the man she was with. The only person she could belong to IS Naoshi."  
  
Vash didn't see the way his brother's face paled to the point where it was ghost-like, wide, ice blue eyes glossy with pain. "She had a man with her...?"  
  
"Uh-huh. His name was something like...Mitayo - yeah that was it. Mitayo. They seemed real happy!" Vash simply could not get over the fact that they had smiled and waved. "You should've seen their little boy. From the way both he and the girl were smiling you would've thought they were the perfect family."  
  
"Perfect...family...?" Knives was horrified at the thought. "So, you're saying...that man she was with...they had a son?"  
  
"I'm assuming it was theirs. They said they were going away...to visit Grayfall and Oriole, so..." And then Vash looked at his twin, saw the hurt expression in his eyes, and his heart sunk with confusion. Why did Knives seem more upset by the new information? Shouldn't he be happy that the woman was faring so well? Ok, yeah, Vash had teased them about liking each other - but Knives had raised his hand and sworn to him shortly after she had left that what he felt for her was only something of an older brother looking out for his sister. Knives wouldn't lie to him...would he?  
  
He smacked his head. Of course Knives would lie! This is Knives!  
  
He gathered up his broken brother in his arms as the man broke down crying, the pain and disappointment overwhelming him. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," Vash whispered, stroking nimble fingers through the short blonde hair. "I'm so sorry..."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie tried to hide her embarrassment from Mitayo and the children. Of all the stupid luck...meeting up with Vash? This was NOT her day. She had purposely clung to Mitayo's arm and acted all happy and giggly with him just so Vash would assume that nothing was wrong and the children were theirs - not an assassin's and some experimental plant's.  
  
Now, pushing her hair out of her eyes and sighing, she locked tired blue eyes on her daughter and Eleven, standing before them in the doorway to the house. "Now, you two behave while we're gone at Grayfall and Oriole's, ok? Faith, don't start a fight, and make sure Eleven feels at home. We should be back by nightfall. Are you sure you guys are going to be ok?"  
  
"Mom!" she whined. "You're acting like you're gonna be gone for ten months instead of ten hours! Me and Eleven are gonna have fun! You see, we're going to find him a new name cuz Eleven ain't too cool."  
  
"Yeah...you do that." Mitayo grimaced. "Stormie - they are too young. We shouldn't be leaving them."  
  
She waved a hand. "Don't worry about it! I have a neighbor next door in case anything happens and they need something. See, it's almost like they have a baby-sitter. Now, let us be off!" And with that she skipped out to the jeep, clapping her hands as she ran and singing out, "All aboard! All aboard! Here we go!"  
  
Mitayo couldn't help but snort at her antics. Why did the woman have to be so childish at times? For goodness sake, it was no wonder Faith was such a little terror! With one last apologetic look at his son, Mitayo turned and followed the other plant out onto the hot desert sand, squinting in the morning sun.  
  
Faith turned to Eleven and linked arms with him, causing the boy to blush brightly. "How do you feel about the name Xavier?" 


	14. To Save The Child

UPDATE!! Alright, this chapter is slightly more upbeat than the last, I guess. Haha.  
  
THANK YOU ROCKERBABY!! The only reason I even continue this story is because of your encouragement.  
  
Radia: Umm, sorry if you find the character relationships too complex, but I'm a slightly complex person with very complex friends. I find it boring to have a simple relationship! lol Wow.u read this story in one sitting?!?!? Purely amazing! Thank you!  
  
Jeril Dragonsoul: I think Xavier is spiffy too! -_^  
  
Kamazova: Did you really think I'd kill Knives?? Haha  
  
hello_lola - Keep writing? Will do.  
  
The song that Stormie sings is off the 'Kingdom Come' soundtrack - it's a cool song and the chorus is really pretty. Yeah, so, in short, I do not own it.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie opened the car door for Mitayo, bowing down low and gesturing with her arm in such a way that she looked like a servant beckoning him into his awaiting carriage. When he climbed in, giving her no attention, she shut the door and giggled, hopping into the driver's seat herself and gunning up the engine to roar off across the sand. "This weekend is going to be a prism of torture for me!" she called over the wind as they drove away, waving over her shoulder to Faith and Eleven, who stood in the doorway of the house.  
  
"Why?" demanded Mitayo, speaking before he could remember to ignore her.  
  
"Because my friends are just as melancholy as you. No one is going to laugh at my jokes all day. Gosh, I can't wait until their wedding. I have the king of all capers going down for that one. I'm not telling you though. You'd pry relate it right back to them!"  
  
"They're getting married then?"  
  
"In about three months, yes. You'd never know by looking at them though. They act so sad all the time, even with each other. Once Naoshi is gone, I'm sure they'll be much better though. Gosh, I HATE how I'm the only one able to keep up a good attitude around here!"  
  
Mitayo knitted his brow. Melancholy lovebirds. A grouchy Stormie. Some visit this was going to be.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives ice blue eyes shot open, wavering in silent horror. It was early morning, the sunlight spilling into his face from where he lay in his bed, and the filmy haze of the dust rising in the room made his vision all the more bleary in his panicked state. Naoshi's words floated back to him.  
  
*I know what it's like to be a plant's child, and I won't let my daughter suffer that!*  
  
Knives stumbled out of bed, feet sliding uselessly against the sheets as he crashed to the hard, wooden floor. "Vash!" he cried out hoarsely. "Vash!"  
  
His brother appeared from the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging loosely from his mouth and a towel in left hand, cup of water in the other. "Hmm?" he hummed in surprise, unable to speak around the foamy toothpaste threatening to spill from his lips.  
  
"Vash! Do you know where Stormie lives?!"  
  
He held up a finger, disappeared back into the bathroom, and spit out the toothpaste. Then, while Knives waited impatiently, he washed out his mouth, finally answering, "No. Why?"  
  
"Do you know where she and that man were going?! Tell me, Vash! It's important!"  
  
"Umm..." He scratched his head, the honey blonde strands drooping lazily over his green eyes. "Yeah. I think she said Grayfall and Oriole's place."  
  
Knives was obviously aggravated, ready to explode in anger. His hands clutched at a pillow to keep from leaping up and strangling his twin. "WHERE IS THAT?!"  
  
"I think she said it's..."  
  
"TAKE ME THERE NOW! WE HAVE TO CATCH THEM!"  
  
Vash sighed, deciding to wait until the car ride to question his brother. In the state he was currently in, it would not do to make him wait any further for his demand. Walking over, he helped Knives to his feet, handed him his own trench coat, figuring that since Knives had worn it thus far, he might as well let him continue to do so. With that, the brothers made their way out the door.  
  
"Ok, Knives, start talking."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie whistled to the tune on the radio, singing with the bittersweet words whenever she knew enough to. Mitayo, frankly, hated rap and anything remotely close, so he hated the song. Very much. Slumped in his seat, arms crossed, he kept an eye on the rearview mirror, kicking himself each time they passed a patch of soft ground with the thought, 'there went my perfect opportunity to jump out of this death-mobile!'  
  
"Yesterday got a page said my daddy died, but I couldn't cry," crooned Stormie, flipping her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, face lifted skyward to accept the warmth of the sun. "We had a fight long time ago, by the liquor store, said I didn't wanna see his face no mo'. I know that pops was just a man, but how you hurt someone you love I don't understand..."  
  
Mitayo turned to look at her, thinking that, despite how foolish she was, she was actually very pretty with her long, straight hair streaming in the wind and her clear, blue eyes dancing and full lips moving in synchronization to the song, dainty nose slightly turned upwards. Almost disgusted with her for making him even think such a thought, he snapped, "Hey! Will you shut up? Don't you ever get tired of making an idiot of yourself?!"  
  
Stormie glanced at him briefly, all the while continuing to sing, "Heaven can you hear me, Father can you help me? On my knees I'm praying 'please come through'. My world is slowly dying, but Lord I'm really trying - it's been a while since I last talked to you. Mama said God never makes mistakes; if that's the truth than I really need to see His face, so I know it's gonna be ok..."  
  
He growled low in his throat and then averted his gaze and tried to close his ears - but have you ever really tried to close you ears? It's physically impossible, and he continued to be subjected to the horrible sounds of Stormie singing her heart out. Just then, though, he caught a glimpse of something odd in the rearview mirror... Another jeep was following them. The people in the front looked downright crazy too, one driving like mad while the other screamed his head off. Mitayo slammed his hand down on the radio knob, turning it off, and commanded, "Look behind us. Are those psychos back there friends of yours, or are we being stalked?"  
  
Stormie looked and paled. "We're being stalked," she joked weakly, slowing down the vehicle and slouching over almost in dread. Her hair fell into her eyes as she jerked to a stop, and she raised her hands to cover her face, breathing in deeply and rubbing at her eyes. "Great," she murmured.  
  
Mitayo looked back to see one of the men jumping out of the jeep, quickly followed by the other. They actually looked very much alike, save one had green eyes and the other blue, the latter with a bull cut instead of the golden spikes of his partner. That was the one that scared Mitayo - the one with blue eyes and shorter hair. There was something akin to insanity in that one's expression.  
  
Tromping up to the car, the man stopped by the driver's side, breathing heavily, and nearly screamed, "Stormie! Where is your daughter?!"  
  
She lifted her head, forcing a smile. From between closed lips she was able to mumble, "Hello to you too, Knives."  
  
Mitayo looked back and forth between all present parties, completely lost.  
  
Knives had had enough of being questioned, of not being taken seriously, and of being made to wait for his request of the utmost urgency to be fulfilled. He was doing this not for himself, but for Stormie and her daughter, so why wouldn't anyone listen to him?! "WHERE IS SHE, STORMIE?!"  
  
Alarmed, Stormie shrunk away, gaze suspiciously darting back and forth between Knives and Vash. "I - I left her at home with her friend," she stuttered. "Why? What's wrong?"  
  
Knives swore and punched the side of the jeep, teeth gritted. "Naoshi is after her!" He shook his head in anger, gulping down a deep breath of air. "He's going to come for her! We NEED to go back NOW!"  
  
Stormie drew in a sharp breath and fumbled to twist the key in the ignition. Knives knew the talking part was over - she'd been given all the explanation she needed - now came time for action. As the female plant drove away, tires spitting up a shower of sand on Knives and the stone- silent Vash, the brothers quickly turned and went back to their own car, planning to follow.  
  
~~~~~  
  
In front of Stormie's humble house, all seemed to be calm. There were no signs of forced entry, no noise to alert them to a struggle, and not even so much as a footprint in the dusty yard. But the moment that both vehicles arrived, virtually at the same time, the plants were all tumbling out in a panic, struggling to be the first to the door. But when they got there...  
  
No one wanted to open it.  
  
In the end, Knives was the one who did, and for a few moments he just stood there, his figure blocking the view of the inside from everyone else. After a few moments, however, he was able to break out of his frozen state and move aside, eyes still wide and horrified.  
  
Stormie immediately shouldered her way in to see for herself what he had gazed upon and screamed, hands flying to cover her mouth.  
  
In the center of the floor, drenched in his own blood, lay the broken, sprawled out figure of a little boy, long, platinum hair splayed beneath his head. His slender limbs were draped over one another, thin body rolled onto its side, facing the doorway, the trail of scarlet fluid behind him suggesting he had dragged his injured self quite a ways. Skin pale, eyes closed, peaceful frown frozen on his lips, he was immediately taken for dead by everyone looking on.  
  
Mitayo was the last to push his way in to see what was wrong, and when he did realize what was spread out before him, his eyes widened in terror and he jerked back. An imploring look, the expression of a child begging to be told everything was going to be alright, dawned upon his face and he reached out to the motionless form, a faint, trembling whisper escaping his lips.  
  
"Eleven...?"  
  
~~~~~  
  
I'm evil, aren't I?? Better review...Eleven's fate hangs in the balance. 


	15. The Game is Over

Vash exited the bedroom with blood smeared across his white, long-sleeved shirt, a wan smile gracing his lips. He wiped his hands off on his pants and looked upon the anxious plant awaiting his answer, standing with his back leaning against the wall, eyes locked first on the doorway and then on the person who exited it. Vash nodded his head slowly.  
  
Mitayo's knees buckled and he fell to the floor, sobbing in relief and grief, his face in his hands. "He's alive," he whispered in reassurance to himself. "He's alive..."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Billy was not in a good mood - in fact, she was downright upset. When she had woken up that morning, Naoshi had been strangely absent. Great. The plant assassin had pulled yet another one of his disappearing acts, which were becoming more and more frequent.  
  
She had loafed around the house all day, being lazy and playing with her son. Vincent had also been a bit irritable, not his usual quiet self. First he whined over where his dad was, then he complained about his cereal, and last of all, he was tired of the swimming pool and his current toys. He wanted new amusements. Billy could offer none for him or for herself.  
  
Later that night, the front door banged open and both mother and son rushed to great Naoshi and welcome his coming home. However, they soon found that with him he had brought an unpleasant surprise.  
  
"Hello, adoring family," he greeted, striding inside and dragging a little girl along by the hand. Her wide eyes were his own, full of fear and hate. "Look, we have a visitor. Her name is Faith and she will be staying with us from now on."  
  
Vincent looked at his mother in shock and surprise, seeing she had been stunned into silence, jaw hanging open. "Where...did she come from?" Billy finally demanded when she found her voice. The resemblance the child bore to Naoshi was uncanny and disturbing. She was his - no doubt about it - but who the heck was the mother?  
  
"This is my daughter," Naoshi stated the obvious, smiling at Billy. He must've had great ambitions for the future and a happy family, but none of them would ever amount to anything if the woman of the house had a say.  
  
"Take her back," Billy said flatly. "I don't want her. I don't want to know how she got here. Just take her back."  
  
"Why would I do that?"  
  
Now Billy's hopes and dreams were being single-handedly torn down by one scared little girl. This was horrible - more horrible than she had ever dreamt. How could he just waltz right in with evidence that he had been with another woman?  
  
"Billy, please, try to understand," Naoshi purred, shutting the door and ushering the little girl closer towards Vincent. Faith struggled briefly against him, tears dripping from her wide eyes, and a whimper worked its way up from her throat. "She's a little upset right now. Don't make it worse."  
  
Grabbing Naoshi's hand, Billy jerked him into the kitchen and slammed the door. Placing her hands on her hips, gazing into his placid eyes, she whispered furiously, "You better explain where that little girl's mom is and you better explain quick!"  
  
"Shh," he calmed her, hands gently resting on her shoulders. "She's just Stormie's daughter. I couldn't leave her with that woman... Come on, don't be jealous... This happened a few nights before I even met you."  
  
"And just what was the whole deal with Stormie?"  
  
At this he glanced back at the door, seeming to fear the two children outside were listening in, and leaned in to whisper in Billy's ear.  
  
At his first few words, her fingernails dug into his shoulders, leaving indents even through his heavy shirt. After three sentences her stomach had twisted in knots and her knees were going weak. As soon as his explanation was through, she slammed the front of her palms against his chest and pushed him roughly away, screeching, "YOU DID WHAT?!"  
  
The man stumbled back and crashed against the door, gritting his teeth against the hit. He looked genuinely surprised at her anger, sorely rubbing a spot just below his shoulder. "Billy, why are you being so irrational?"  
  
Billy angrily wiped the tears glistening in her eyes, refusing to look at him. She sniffled, trying to rise above the hurt and the pain. Naoshi was a smart man - why couldn't he figure out how to be decent to her? Maybe it was all just a game to him. Either way, she had just decided that it was about time to cash in. "Alright, Naoshi. We'll play it you're way," she hissed, stalking out past him. "Go take your son out and do something with him. He's been missing you."  
  
"Hmm? And Faith?" He eyed her warily. There was no reason for him not to trust her though; she had bent and twisted and nearly broke her back countless times just trying to conform to his way of life. No matter how much she complained, dragged her feet, or cried - Billy always did just as Naoshi wanted. This time felt a little different though...  
  
Billy's gray-blue eyes flashed stormily. "I'll get acquainted with my - our - new daughter. Send her in. She must be hungry."  
  
He turned and walked out, and she glimpsed through the slightly ajar door him picking up their son while Vincent giggled insanely at all the attention. Faith had pressed herself up in a corner, looking spitefully on, and at first refused when he told her to go in the kitchen. However, the girl was obstinate, but not unafraid, and did comply, and at the same time, Naoshi headed out to the green house for some alone time with Vincent. Billy wasted no time in putting her plan to action.  
  
"Listen, honey," she said gently, kneeling before Faith and taking the girl's trembling hand, "I bet you miss your mother?"  
  
Faith nodded. And started to sob.  
  
"Shh...don't cry. Please don't cry."  
  
"I'm...I'm scared," she blubbered hysterically. "I c-can't s-stop. W-why? Sh-she t-t-told me that h-he would never bother u-us! Sh-she said h-h-he didn't want me! I didn't want him to want me! H-he killed Eleven!" She rocked forward, fell to her knees, white hair streaming into her face. A low moan was expelled from her throat, one of agony and grief. "He killed Eleven! I just want to go home! I just want to...to go home! I miss - I miss my mom!"  
  
Sitting on the kitchen floor, facing the bent over, shivering girl, Billy took the child's face in her hands. "My name is Billy, and I miss mine too," she said softly. "Let's make a promise. We're going to get out of here together, we're going to get back to our homes, where we belong. Ok?"  
  
Faith looked unsure but at the same time, hopeful.. "Ok," she whispered, bewildered.  
  
"Good. Now, Naoshi is intelligent - we'll have to leave very soon before he suspects anything. Tonight, I'm going to get Vincent and we'll all go together. You can trust me. Can I trust you?"  
  
Instead of an enthusiastic yes, like she had expected, Faith stared at her warily. "Why are you doing this? I don't understand. Why would you help me like this?"  
  
"Because," Billy said firmly, "this game we've been playing has gone on way too long."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Night had fallen, but he still hadn't seen his son. Sure, he'd heard him crying earlier from the bedroom, but Stormie had been the one to rush in and take care of that. Mitayo had remained in the kitchen, sliding out of his chair as if every bone in his body had just dissolved, which left him a limp mess on the floor, barely capable of curling up under the table and holding his head tight in his hands. Those soft, pained wails had torn away at his heart and mind until he found himself raking short fingernails at his scalp until it almost bled. In his sick, dizzy state, he remembered...so many things. He remembered how he had sat there with Eleven's mother and watched her bleed to death because the doctors just didn't care. Eleven was all they wanted. And for that, he had loathed his son. But now...  
  
Now, he would just die if Eleven didn't get better.  
  
So, there he was, staring out the window at the bulging full moon, somewhere in the corner of his mind thinking that it looked ready to burst while the rest of his brain was feeling guilty as all get out. He just knew Stormie was in that room with Eleven, been her motherly self even though her daughter was gone, and that was just another barrier in his mind. He didn't want her there. He wanted to be alone with his son and his guilt.  
  
But, that wasn't going to happen, huh?  
  
Tiptoeing along the corridor, Mitayo made his shameful way to the bedroom, slipping inside and letting his eyes adjust to the dark. Merely lumps and shadows at first, his gaze soon discerned that Stormie sat cross-legged at the head of the bed, Eleven's head resting in her lap as he peacefully slept. Bandages were wrapped around his midsection, arms, and forehead, gauze taped to one puffy, enflamed cheek. He was having trouble breathing, it looked like, breath rasping against the roof of his mouth. Stormie's skilled fingers were stroking through his blonde hair, smoothing it back away from his forehead in a comforting manner. She was aware of Mitayo standing in the doorway, but said nothing.  
  
"Ya' know," he stated awkwardly after a while, "if he were awake, he'd be loving the attention. He never had a mother to sit up with him at night when he didn't feel well."  
  
Stormie looked over at him emotionlessly. "Join the party," she invited flatly.  
  
He held a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat behind it, eyes holding doubt and insecurity. "Alright." With careful steps, he approached the bed and sat down on the edge of it, feeling as if he didn't belong, not even beside his child. Eleven was so small and so frail - why had he never noticed? When he picked up his warm little hand, it could easily be folded and lost in his long fingers.  
  
Stormie slipped out from beneath Eleven, consequently jolting the boy awake. He gave a soft little groan and then a displeased grunt. However, when she prompted him to look, and his hazy, blue eyes opened to see his father there, a lazy smile spread over his damaged face and he squeezed Mitayo's hand.  
  
Stormie shot the man across from her a look that said, 'you better not disappoint this boy'.  
  
"Are you...going to stay, dad?" croaked Eleven in a raspy voice, and it was the first time he had ever called him by that name. Dad.  
  
"Of course," answered Mitayo before he could even think about it. And then, quite mechanically, he lay down and stretched out beside his son, turned onto his side. Eleven moved closer and nestled into him, needing warmth as well as his father, and Stormie made herself comfortable on his other side so that the boy lay between the two. Within seconds Eleven had drifted off.  
  
Mitayo was left staring over the top of a head of tousled, near-white hair into the dancing azure eyes of an almost serious, almost curious woman. There was worry there too - she knew Naoshi would not harm Faith. How she knew that, she would not say, but earlier he had overheard her talking to Vash, lamenting how the only thing that scared her was that the plant assassin would whisk her child far, far away, never to be seen again.  
  
"We'll find Faith," he tried to tell her, but she shook her head.  
  
"No," she corrected, "I'll find Faith. I'm the only one who can now."  
  
And somehow, both were reaching out their hands at the same time, tentatively, and grasping weakly at the other's fingers. The back of his wrist on the pillow over Eleven's head, her palm lying inside his. Connected. Mitayo wondered at the unfamiliar sensation of just holding someone's hand, and at how much smaller hers was. He realized he thought Stormie to be unusual and to be not only interesting, but simply fascinating, to be strong and to be innocent. Their eyes were locked again, just with simple understanding, a sort of pact that they would survive and so would their children.  
  
And that's when Mitayo knew that he had fallen in love.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives sat with his back against the wall just outside the bedroom, face buried in his hands. He had peeked in earlier and he saw that Mitayo and Stormie were sleeping with 'their' son between them. Someone had yet to explain their relationship to him, for he had felt it would've looked stupid to ask, "So, you two together or what?" during the midst of the little boy almost dying and Faith turning up kidnapped. From the looks of it though, their fingers interlocked, gazing quietly into each other's eyes in contentment, they were most definitely in love. And so was he, but he could never have her the way Mitayo surely did.  
  
So, Knives sat outside, feeling along and feeling empty, and shed silent tears into his cupped palms. 


	16. Doesn't mean a thing to you the good ver...

GAHHHHH!! I don't know what's wrong with the last chapter i posted but here's the same thing without all the annoying symbols!! Here's how it SHOULD be read! For some reason, I can't get that chapter to come off of Fanfiction.net. No matter what i do, it can't be removed! I'm really sorry, guys, thanks for the reviews anyhow... Does that sort of stuff ruin the story as much as I think it does? Next chapter is coming soon, I promise! It's already written and just has to be read through for typos and the like.   
  
Sorry I haven't updated for a while! Big problems with the computer! lol Anyhow, I must say, I am disappointed by the lack of reviews. Hmph. Doesn't anyone think this is good anymore? *sigh* Just humor me, will ya'? lol Anyhow, I know everyone hates Mitayo because they'd rather Knives get the girl, but don't hate him! He's nice! lol Oh, and nothing is cemented in stone yet!! (hint, hint) ~_^  
  
The song I use in here is off the .hack//SIGN soundtrack. It's called Aura, so, as usual, I don't have any claim to it.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie woke up in a foul mood the next morning. Life sucked - especially for her. Her daughter was gone, Eleven was hurt, and Knives and Vash had tracked her down to watch her drown in all her shame. Mitayo had obviously risen earlier, for the spot he had occupied on the bed was empty, and Eleven was absent as well. Great. That stupid man had gotten his near-dead son up and taken him out to the kitchen for breakfast. Didn't he realize that the boy should be taking it easy?  
  
Rising, Stormie combed her fingers through long, blonde tangles. No one cared if she looked presentable anyway. Then, she made her way out to the kitchen, marveling over how crowded the small house had become with the four unexpected visitors - all male.   
  
With that thought, she sat down in the hallway, her back to the wall, and cried. She was so scared. What would happen to Faith? Would she ever find her? Would Naoshi hurt her in any way?  
  
Naoshi...  
  
Stormie jolted in surprise, sudden thoughts bombarding her. Naoshi had had the chance to kill Eleven, but instead he left him for dead, just like he didn't finish off her. He'd also had a run in with Knives, but had not killed him either. What was going on here? Was he...sparing them?  
  
"Stormie?" Mitayo was standing in the hall, looking at her with an expression of cautious curiosity. "Are you ok?"  
  
She pulled her knees tightly to her chest. "You took Eleven out of bed," she sniffled. "You shouldn't have."  
  
"He was begging me, Stormie. He said he wanted to go eat breakfast with everyone else." Mitayo shrugged helplessly. "And he said from now on we're supposed to call him Xavier………whatever that means."  
  
"Faith must've named him," Stormie sighed. "She names everything Xavier. Xavier the cat, Xavier the dog, Xavier the turtle, Xavier the house plant..."  
  
"I'm really sorry he took her," Mitayo whispered, sliding down against the wall beside her. "I'll do anything you tell me to in order to help. Really. I wasn't ready before to risk my neck like that, but now...I'll do anything."  
  
"Thanks, but look at what happened because of my dragging you and Eleven into the whole mess. I can do this alone..."  
  
Mitayo leaned in, kissing her on the cheek. Stormie was so shocked she couldn't respond. "No, you can't," he said quietly, and stood up to leave.   
  
Stormie remained frozen in place, hand resting over her burning cheek. "Alright," she murmured.   
  
~~~~~  
  
Mitayo ran headlong into Knives on his way around the corner. The other plant, exact same height, glared at him with ice blue eyes. "You like her, huh?" he muttered.   
  
Mitayo eyed the other man defiantly. "Yes."  
  
"And I suppose she likes you?"  
  
"I'm hoping."  
  
"Where's Eleven's mother?"  
  
"Dead." Remorse rang in Mitayo's voice.   
  
"You want Stormie to be his mother."  
  
"I wouldn't mind. What are you getting at?"  
  
"You better not hurt or disappoint Stormie."  
  
"Trust me, I won't."   
  
"You better not," Knives seethed. Mitayo began to shoulder his way past, but the other man grabbed him by the shirt collar, yanking him back into place. He brought them so close their noses almost touched, eyes wild with hate and jealously as he seethed, "Because if you do, I'll kill you."  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Order up, George!" Oriole impatiently rang the bell at the kitchen window, having already fastened the piece of paper she had written the order on to a string with a clothes pin. The cook was a bit hard of hearing and slow to respond, so she had to call him several times before he sluggishly dragged himself to the front to see what she wanted.   
  
Meanwhile, Grayfall was sitting at a table by the window, chin resting on the back of his hand. He often could imagine his father doing the same thing as he waited for Heather, Grayfall's mother, to get off work. One could say Grayfall was playing out the same scenes from his father's life, but there was a major difference. No Millions Knives to run back to. He clenched his fist angrily. They were still not on good terms.   
  
Oriole dashed by the table, setting down a cup of coffee on her way. He smiled at her appreciatively, but she didn't see, just kept on running to assist the REAL customers. Turning back to the window, he began to sip at the hot liquid, intrigued by a strange sight just outside.   
  
Oriole, now on break, slid into the booth to sit across from him, confused at his fascination by what was outside. "What are you looking at?"  
  
He nodded his head in the direction of the road. "Look at that. That lady's car broke down."  
  
Oriole squinted. Indeed, there was a smoking vehicle out by the shoulder of the faint desert path. A short, petite woman stood in front of it, her hands on the lifted hood, peering down at the engine in utter confusion. By her side was a tall, blonde girl, looking to be around ten or twelve, and she held by the hand a six year old boy with jet black hair.   
  
"Maybe you should help them," suggested Oriole, and Grayfall nodded soberly. She smiled and waved as he walked off, very proud of her fiancé. He was smart and helpful and handsome and just all around perfect and she wanted everyone to see - including the poor lady who was stuck with a jeep that no longer ran.   
  
Grayfall sensed Oriole's pride and squared his shoulders, but smiled and shook his head at the same time. She thought of him to be much more talented than he really was. They made each other happy - they understood one another. He mulled over all these thoughts as he strode out to where the stranded family was, and he was even considering them when he came up behind the woman and asked, "Need help?"  
  
She stiffened at the sound of his voice, as if she recognized it. That immediately made him cautious, taking a step back. What next threw him was the little girl clinging to his legs, screaming his name in delight. And then he looked down. And gasped.   
  
"Faith? What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, because there was nothing else to say. Stormie had been supposed to visit, but had never showed. "Where is your mother?"  
  
The other woman turned around, and Grayfall stared at her for a while, puzzled. He recognized her... An image flashed through his mind. Dinner. Vash standing at the head of the table, serving. Knives expression when he was thrown back against the wall. A quick glance around the room. A family of three. The child, a girl with black hair, staring at him, horrified. Her name was...  
  
"Billy?" he said blankly.   
  
She nodded, looking away immediately. "Yeah. You remembered me, huh? Well, guess it's hard to forget the girl who ran away with the plant assassin. Might as well spill the story now. Oh, gosh, I'm so embarrassed." And her face showed it too, having heated up to a beat red. She pushed the boy in front of her, introducing him quickly. "This is Vincent. Naoshi's son. And I have Faith with me because, as you know, she's his daughter and he had this great idea of spending some family time with her. I don't know what he was thinking when he took up his sword again with her there to watch. Take your daughter to work day or something?" Billy groaned, her hand over her face in shame. "Listen, I had no idea he did that to Stormie. I'm sorry, and I know I don't deserve your help, seeing as how I was sorta on the enemy's side up until recently, but I really need a place to stay until I get home." She sighed in exhaustion, in humiliation. "Please."  
  
Grayfall nodded, backing slowly away and then, upon finding his voice, "Follow me."   
  
~~~~~  
  
Woosh. A gust of cold air swept through the station as a newer train sped by on the tracks, passing an excited Faith and sending her long, white hair streaming across her face. She had been assigned to hold Vincent's hand to make sure he would not stray, and had already found that he was a quiet, shy little boy who rarely spoke unless it was to his mother. It was strange to think this was her half brother.   
  
But she was going home!  
  
Another train chugged by, this one slower, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Billy counting out the train tickets. Grayfall and Oriole were sitting on a bench only a few yards away, having decided to accompany them home for protection lest Naoshi show up.   
  
Tugging impatiently on the little boy's hand, she dragged him over to Billy, smiling up at the woman in gratitude. "Thanks for helping me get home, Mrs...uh..." Now this presented a problem. What was Billy? Was she Mrs. Naoshi? Or Mrs. Plant Assassin? As Faith pondered the selection, Billy gulped down a lump in her throat.   
  
"Just call me Billy," she said.   
  
Vincent tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Momma!"  
  
"What is it, Vinny?" Billy was tucking the precious tickets, her means of freedom, into her purse.   
  
He pointed to a snow cone vender not far away. "Can I get one? Please?"  
  
Since Vincent had been quiet and good the whole trip, aside from crying and pining away over leaving his daddy forever, for reasons he did not understand, Billy had not the heart to disappoint him. After all, how could she explain to the little boy, who adored his father and saw him as someone kind and generous and protective, that the man who had sired him was just a murdering villain?  
  
"Faith, do you want one?" Billy asked, looking to the girl.   
  
Faith nodded enthusiastically. Anything cold on a hot day was a treat in her book.   
  
"Grayfall, Oriole!" called Billy, successfully catching the couple's attention as both heads turned her way. "We're going to get something to eat! We'll be back in five minutes!"  
  
Both nodded.   
  
"I bet that girl's parents will be happy to see her," Oriole murmured, brown eyes bouncing along with the trio as they disappeared into the swelling crowd. It was a busy day. "Their marriage broke up when Billy disappeared."  
  
Grayfall frowned. "If I were her, I wouldn't have the guts to go back home."  
  
"It'd be hard, that's for sure."  
  
And then he heard it. Grayfall's heart seized in his chest and he nearly doubled over. The din of the train station quieted and became silent. The hurrying people no longer made noise as they yelled and shuffled their feet. The movements continued, but there was no sound. Just a slow, metallic tinkling of a far away music box. Then there was a new melody, a slow, halting, tune with an eerie voice that sang of sorrow. Grayfall panicked. The song had never been like this before. The Death Song.   
  
//If you are near ~ to the dark//  
  
//I will tell you ~ 'bout the sun//  
  
Oriole gently lay a hand to his shoulder, and he whipped his head around to stare at her, wide-eyed. Her lips moved, but no words came forth. What was happening?! She looked so concerned. She shook him a little.   
  
//You are here, ~ no escape,//  
  
//From my visions of the world...//  
  
"You can't...hear it..." Grayfall couldn't even pick up on his own words; they were drowned out by the music. Who was going to die? Where was Naoshi?   
  
//You will cry ~ all alone,//  
  
//But it does not mean a thing ~ to me...//  
  
Grayfall jumped to his feet, looking wildly about. He had not heard this music so loud in years. Naoshi was definitely near by, and the only person he could possibly be looking for was...  
  
//Know~ing the song ~ I will sing//  
  
//Till the darkness comes to sleep//  
  
"BILLY!" Grayfall screamed at the top of his lungs, but it was just a faint whisper to his ears. He bolted off through the crowd, but it was so thick he could not progress as fast as he needed to no matter how hard he pushed. The beat was driving him crazy, driving him forward, demanding he pick up his feet and run for all he was worth even though he felt as if he was moving through jelly.   
  
//Come to me ~ I will tell//  
  
//Bout the secret of the sun//  
  
Up ahead, Billy was just placing their order for the snow cones. While the man turned to get them, she knelt down before her son and wiped at a stubborn dirt stain on his shirt, trying to brush it away.   
  
//It's in you ~ not in me//  
  
//But it does not mean a thing ~ to you//  
  
Grayfall saw them, but where was the plant assassin? His gaze darted wildly about until he spotted a flash of white hair moving stealthily through the crowd as if it was water. The man darted and weaved like a predator stalking its pray through tall grass.   
  
//The sun is in your eyes//  
  
//The sun is in your ears//  
  
Grayfall's hand shot out to warn them, but only grabbed empty space. Drums, drums, drums. Urgently thundering inside of him as the flute whistled for him to reach them in time. "Billy!" he cried, shouldering his way past a woman with shopping bags and a man with a brief case.   
  
//I hope you see the sun//  
  
// ~Someday~ in your darkness...//  
  
Oriole was beside him, leaping over dropped parcels and ducking underneath gates when she had to. Grayfall's path had near forced her against the wall, but the situation was too urgent to complain.   
  
//The sun is in your eyes//   
  
//The sun is in your ears//  
  
Naoshi was upon them now, just coming out of the crowd, stepping calmly from behind two men who were waiting for their train. Billy, her back to him, was smiling and handing Vincent his snow cone, unaware of the danger.   
  
//But you can't see the sun//  
  
//Even in the darkness//  
  
Grayfall broke out of the crowd, just across from her, staring past her with wide eyes at Naoshi. The Death Song raged on.   
  
Billy smiled and waved to him.   
  
Oriole burst out just behind Grayfall, crying, "Billy, run!"  
  
//You are here ~ no escape//  
  
But where could she run to? Billy turned around and gasped, coming face to face with a very grim Naoshi.   
  
"You can't take away my children," he said quietly. "You just can't. They mean more to me than anything ever could."  
  
//You will cry ~ all alone//  
  
Billy sneered at him, pushing Faith back towards Oriole, where the girl sought cover, and taking Vincent firmly by the hand. "This is no life for a child," she seethed. "He is my son. I'm taking him someplace safe."  
  
Naoshi's eyes narrowed. The music in Grayfall's mind came to a sudden halt. And the plant assassin did something everyone had expected, but no one saw coming. He pulled his hand out of his cloak, raised the gun to Billy's forehead, and shot the woman point blank.   
  
//But it does not mean a thing ~ to me...// 


	17. Only In Dreams

Wow! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Haha, Rockerbaby, THANK YOU SOOO MUCH for your words of encouragement! I know, Vincent is going to be a scarred little boy and Xavier has even more trauma to go through - can you believe it? I'm so mean to that kid. Anyhow, I did not write the Death Song - it's Aura from .hack//SIGN. Haha...I wish I'd written it though!  
  
R.K. --- you really think I could have faithful reviewers?? *eyes get big and watery* WOOOW!! That'd be cool!!  
  
Hello_lola, I know, isn't Billy a tortured little girl? Thanx for your reviews.  
  
Orangeslime1, I can't believe you read this story all in one night! I'm glad it kept your attention!  
  
Sorry about that weird text thing going on guys - I don't know what happened. It makes me cringe in irritation...  
  
The song Stormie sings is Only in Dreams by Weezer - one of my favorite songs!  
  
TOO ALL YOU KNIVES/STORMIE FANS! I dunno if this chapter will make you sad or happy...it depends on how you take their encounter, I guess. But I can't make anything easy, can I? ^_^  
  
~~~~~  
  
Billy was thrown back by the intensity of the pain, flying into a wall and then crumbling to the ground. But she wasn't dead. Not yet. She lay silently on the cold stone of the train station, staring blankly at the ceiling. The bullet had scraped against the side of her head, not actually entering her skull but causing a nasty cut that caused unimaginable pain. A collective scream had rung through the crowd, and she heard her little boy crying out for her. She tried to raise her head to see if he was ok, but she just couldn't.  
  
"Gray...fall..." she pleaded, and the man was at her side immediately. "Vinn...y..."  
  
Suddenly, Naoshi's face was just over hers, and she looked at him, tears in her eyes. It hurt so much. How could he do this to her? The man seemed to be thinking the same thing, for he was very pale, very horrified. They gazed at each other for a few moments, and she became aware of Grayfall trying to pull him back, calling for the security guards, but she shook her head, croaking, "No...I need...him..." She had actually meant that she needed to tell him something, but wasn't what she said true too? He had told her a long time ago he didn't love her the way she wanted to be, that he wanted her to go home and back to her parents because that was the right thing to do, but she had said that above all she needed Naoshi, and if only he stayed with her, she'd be happy.  
  
Grayfall heard her and froze in complete surprise, watching in disgust when Naoshi pulled away from him and merely glared at everyone gathered around. His gaze settled on Oriole and his eyes widened. Grayfall, intent on not letting him get to her again, dashed forward and placed himself before the woman, acting as a shield. "SECURITY!" he screamed louder. "THIS MAN HAS A GUN!"  
  
No one seemed to be listening. There was complete havoc and panic, people struggling to get away.  
  
Oriole was hugging both sobbing children close to her, trying to cover their eyes and shield them from the gory scene. Angrily, she glared at her half-brother, thoroughly appalled by the demented scene unfolding before her. How in the world could she be related to this man?  
  
"N-Naoshi," Billy whispered, her eyes flooding with even more tears, the liquid gushing out and streaming down her cheeks. "Why...?" She was having memories of so many happy times, a gentle smile coming to her face. Staring at the man who had shared his life with her, who had been her first love, who had given her a son and lived with her for so long - the one she had woke up to every morning - she saw that he was looking around, cold and angry and...scared. All he wanted was a normal family, he told her once. He loved his family. Her eyes closed slowly and then opened again, breathing coming slow and ragged.  
  
Oriole, glimpsing into Billy's shattered mind, delved into her emotions and frowned, feeling the strong love and affection. It forced her to grimace.  
  
Naoshi's gaze landed on the sprawled out Billy and tears of regret flooded to his eyes. He had had no idea she meant so much to him. But what was that? Her lips were moving. Looked like she was trying to say something... His face softened but he could not stay. Longingly, he glanced at his son, reached out a hand to take him, but Vincent shook his head and shied away, hiding behind Oriole.  
  
"It's over," Grayfall said quietly. "Unless you want your children to hate you more than they already do. A family... What were you thinking?"  
  
"This," he growled, raising his gun again and pulling the trigger.  
  
Grayfall closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, prepared to take the bullet, but a sudden weight was upon him as well as Oriole and the children, a small, firm body throwing them all out of the way with a grunt and then scream. When he regained his senses, he found himself flat on his back on the floor, the children and Oriole beside him, and kneeling down by his feet was a woman he had never seen before, small and petite with blonde hair cut jaggedly at her shoulders. Her arm was bleeding, where the bullet had hit, he guessed, and in her clenched hands she held a gun, which she was rapidly firing off at Naoshi. Who was this woman who had saved his life?  
  
And with a whirl of his foot and a sweep of his black cape, the plant assassin was gone, darting back through the crowd and swiftly disappearing. Now he was nothing but a whisper of a nightmare.  
  
But Billy lingered in her dream world where he was still with her. The smile that had crept over her lips widened slightly as she chuckled. "You had so many secrets, but I had one too," she said quietly, and then blackness began to overtake her. But just before it did, she realized she needed to tell Naoshi that one last thing she had not revealed before leaving. Drowsily, just before passing out, her lips shaped the words, "Naoshi, I'm pregnant..."  
  
~~~~~  
  
"My name is Bailey," said the woman, extending her good hand to shake Grayfall's. Her other arm was held slightly away from her and in the process of being bandaged by a paramedic. The first ambulance had already carried Oriole, Billy, and Vincent away, while Grayfall and Faith had opted stay with their mysterious savior. "I'm a plant - been tracking Naoshi for about three months. This is the first time I've seen him, and from the looks of it, you have ties with the man."  
  
Grayfall nodded. "He's my fiancee's half-brother. We've been having problems with him."  
  
"Hey, who hasn't?" Bailey winced, squinting one of her dark gray eyes. "Be a little more careful, please," she told the man bandaging her wound, and then to Grayfall she said, "Where are you guys heading now?"  
  
"Off to a friend's. She's rallying together some other plants to track down Naoshi and put an end to all this." Grayfall's keen, golden eyes slid off to the side, glancing at Faith. "It's a long story."  
  
Bailey looked at the man with a mop of chocolate colored hair and deeply tanned skin, his face long and solemn, cat-like eyes gleaming in seriousness. He sparked her interest. "Would you mind if I tagged along?"  
  
"The more," Grayfall said with a slight smirk, "the merrier."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Meryl was startled out of staring blankly out the window by a gentle hand shaking her shoulder. But she didn't want to wake up. She was too upset, too lonely, and although the person trying to get her attention was persistent, she was stubborn. Only when she realized Milly was growing upset did she come back to life.  
  
"Sempai," the tall woman said softly, bending over Mery's tiny form, which sat hunched over in a wooden chair. "There's a phone call for you."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Milly bit her lip. "Your ex-husband."  
  
Meryl blinked dully, not fully comprehending. Still too dazed. She took the phone and cradled it gently to her ear, murmuring, "Hello?"  
  
"Meryl," said the deep voice on the other end of the line, sounding slightly choked up. "Meryl, I got a call at work today."  
  
Meryl's eyes widened as she listened to him talk, having been unprepared for the onslaught of emotions that would come with hearing from him once again. A lump formed in her throat as she battled the fear that divorcing him was the worst mistake she had ever made. "From who?" she croaked.  
  
"Billy."  
  
"Billy...?" It was a hopeful whisper.  
  
There was an awkward silence and then, "Can I come over? Tell you in person?"  
  
"Y-yes."  
  
"Alright." Another pause. "Meryl, I miss you."  
  
And then the other end of the line clicked, leaving her with the steady dial tone and tears in her eyes.  
  
~~~~~  
  
There was a big uproar at Stormie's little house out in the middle of nowhere. People were running back and forth, trying to make everything suitable for their visitors and family, and to make things even more crowded, Desma and Desiree, the two plants that were staying nearby, had dropped in, and both Meryl and Vincent had arrived to anxiously greet their daughter and grandson. Their coming together had been strange, to say the least, for, as Vash observed, Meryl could only stare at him in regret and longing while her ex-husband gently, comfortingly touched her hand and smiled.  
  
Stormie was a wreck, dashing here and there and bursting into tears for no apparent reason. Mitayo was always there beside her though, comforting her, telling her it'd be okay and everything would work out. Everyone could see now that some sort of relationship was developing, though nothing was official.  
  
"This sucks," Knives told his brother, who patiently listened to his every complaint. "I don't like Mitayo. He doesn't belong here."  
  
Desma and Desiree were lounging in the living room beside them, the two plants quietly listening.  
  
"I don't really like him either," said Desma dully. "He's keeps to himself too much. Barely speaks to anyone besides Stormie and that kid of his. What's his deal?"  
  
Desiree examined her nails closely, speaking up nonchalantly in Mitayo's defense. "I think he's very kind. The way he is bending over backwards to make Stormie comfortable shows he cares. And he's a very good father."  
  
Knives snorted. "The kid just got out of a bulb. He hasn't had to interact with the boy up until recently. And what's his name again? Some sort of number?"  
  
"It was Eleven," Vash supplied. "But they call him something else now."  
  
Eleven - or Xavier - sat out on the porch for endless hours, searching the horizon for his lost playmate, unaware he was being discussed.  
  
When the big truck came rumbling down the road, he was the one to call the whole crowd out front, and in a stampede, everyone poured out the front door and stood there, waiting and holding their breath. Upon stopping the vehicle, Grayfall was the first to hop out from the driver's side, holding in his arms a small boy who's eyes were wide with fear and excitement. He then turned and reached up his hand, helping down a fragile looking woman with black hair cut in a pixie. She had bandages wrapped around her forehead, noted both her parents with a gasp, and Meryl stumbled at the sight, having to be caught by Vincent.  
  
Billy turned and walked slowly to her parents, leaning heavily on Grayfall. She could only smile weakly and introduce them to their grandchild, tears flowing from all three the whole time. "I'm sorry, momma," she sobbed as her voice broke after announcing her son's name to be Vincent. Her mother hugged her and her father ushered them all inside.  
  
"Where's Faith?" Stormie asked, her voice trembling, looking back and forth, fear reflecting in her big, blue eyes.  
  
Eleven, who had stumbled on ahead, limping all the way, waved back to her, calling, "She's in the car! She won't budge!"  
  
Stormie took off across the sand, her heart beating wildly, and tore open the car door, staring at her seemingly comatose daughter. "Faith," she breathed, just an instant before the girl had launched herself into her arms, crying uncontrollably.  
  
Meanwhile, Eleven was curious as to who was in the back of the truck, for he had caught a glimpse of two figures there as it pulled up. Hobbling around the side, he lifted himself on tiptoes and peaked over. Two women. Curious. He squinted at them and said timidly, "Hello."  
  
The one with black hair smiled. "Hello. Are you Faith's little friend, Xavier?"  
  
"Yup." He nodded, eyes trained on the blonde woman beside her, for she was staring at him in the strangest way. "You're Oriole?" he asked, addressing the brunette.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Pretty name."  
  
"I like yours too."  
  
"Well," he said, grinning now, "it started out as Eleven, but that's what the plant called me, and Faith said a number isn't a good name so she called me something else. Dad didn't really care."  
  
"My name is Bailey," the blonde volunteered. She was rather pretty, and he felt very comfortable around her, like he knew her.  
  
"Hi, Bailey. I should go back to the others now. Are you coming too?"  
  
"You bet we are," said Bailey, getting up and swinging one leg over the side of the truck, next hopping down. He saw a little pain seep into her expression, but she quickly disregarded it. She turned to wait for Oriole, and once the woman had joined her, they made their way towards the others, where things had miraculously calmed down.  
  
Meryl and Vincent (her ex-husband) were already loading Billy and their new grandson into their car, wanting to get her home where she could rest as soon as possible. She'd told them everything - even about how she had another child on the way. They didn't scream of cry like she had imagined - they just said they forgave her. It was...amazing.  
  
Mitayo slung an arm around Stormie's shoulders, who was still hugging Faith. "I told you everything would be fine," he whispered in her ear, warm breath tickling and pricking at her skin. She released her child, who was thrilled to see Xavier alive and not dead as she had suspected, and hugged the man back, sighing.  
  
"As long as you're with - " she started to say, but another female's voice interrupted.  
  
"Mitayo?" The name was spoken with soft doubt and fear, yet hope and affection. "Mitayo...!"  
  
Stormie pulled away from the male plant to see another girl facing them, a young plant - absolutely stunning. Her body was so perfect, slender, curvy, that Stormie was immediately jealous, and her face was heavenly. Her eyes, so deep and gorgeous, were a dark gray that shone like something out of this world, and her hair was shoulder-length, looking messy yet like a strand was not out of place. The expression she wore was imploring, and Stormie could feel Mitayo moving away from her, gravitating towards the other woman.  
  
"Bailey?" he whispered, and held out his hand, needing to touch her, needing to know if she was real.  
  
All fear fled from her face as she squealed in delight, leaping into his arms, and he in turn lifted her off the ground, twirling in a circle. The two laughed, sharing some secret delight that left Stormie feeling alone and alienated.  
  
"I thought you were dead!" he said, setting her down, arms still around her waist.  
  
"I almost was! They shipped me to a different plant and I was able to heal on the way there! I escaped after that, and I wanted to mentally contact you so badly, but I was afraid they'd find out and track me down or punish you or something! I didn't know you'd gotten out!"  
  
Knives, who was leaning in the doorway, arms folded, didn't know whether to be happy at the turn of events or march out there and punch Mitayo in the face.  
  
"Eleven!" called Mitayo, and the boy looked over in surprise. "I want you to come here! Meet Bailey!"  
  
"I already did, Dad!" he called back, slowly walking over, sensing something big was about to happen.  
  
"Oh my gosh!" Bailey held Mitayo at arm's length, mouth gaping open in happy surprise. "Eleven is...he's the one?! I - I - when I saw him, I - !"  
  
Stormie felt that all had forgotten her, so she quickly demanded, "What's going on here?"  
  
Mitayo glanced at her apologetically, but did not answer. Instead, he looked back to Eleven, saying in a calmer, dignified voice, "Eleven -"  
  
"Xavier," he reminded him.  
  
"Xavier - I want you to meet your mother."  
  
~~~~~  
  
They walked through Stormie's small garden, arm in arm, talking about their lives and Xavier. He explained to her about her child's life and previous experiences, commented on how much Xavier needed his mother and the way he had clung to Stormie. He was so glad, Mitayo said, that she had taken him under her wing along with her own daughter, and he lavished the attention on him that he had been so starved for. "But now that you are here," he finished up, "I'm sure Xavier will be thrilled."  
  
Bailey wistfully smiled at him, asking, "That woman you were hugging...that was Stormie?"  
  
"Yes," he beamed proudly. Somehow, just the thought of her made him light up, and the mention of his being close to such a beautiful, intelligent woman brought a grin to his face. However, when he looked down at Bailey, memories of their short time together slashing through his find, the smile was instantly gone, replaced by a look of awe. What were these strange, mixed feelings she brought to surface?  
  
The short woman, still very much a girl in her youth, stopped walking, and he automatically halted beside her. Her hands, so small and smooth, took one of his rougher ones between her palms and stared at it intently, eyes narrowed in thought. Suddenly, the air was thick and tense and visions flashed by, shared by the two as they silently reminisced over their short but intimate past. Gray eyes flew shut and sharp nails dug into his skin; her breathing hitched. Then, clearing the thoughts away, she asked softly, "She your...girlfriend?"  
  
"No," he said quietly, hoping she would leave it at that. It wasn't a lie, because, after all, he'd never asked Stormie out, even though that was inevitable in everyone's eyes, as well as his - until recently. He was confused. Him and Bailey...they shared something special, and he definitely had spent a good deal of time mourning her, but he'd never considered himself attracted to her. More like, sorry for her. Things were different now. No one was forcing them into anything and they seemed perfectly tuned to the other's emotions, longing for that closeness they'd once shared and somehow feeling as if they were one and the same.  
  
Bailey looked up at him seriously, a smile playing at her lips. "No? You seemed pretty close to her."  
  
"Wait," he told her, shaking his head in utter astonishment as he realized what was happening, what he was saying, "no. I - I didn't mean it like that. You see, she's not my girlfriend, but she's - I mean, we - we're like an unspoken pair right now. She thinks we're pretty much together, and she's right."  
  
"So you like her?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Bailey's face fell. He hated to disappoint her like that, especially when she looked away with a crushed expression and murmured softly, "Oh...I was sort of hoping...that you wouldn't be taken...when I found you. Hmm. She's very pretty though. I'm sure she makes you happy." And raising herself onto her tiptoes, she gently brushed her lips to his mouth. When she sunk back and next spoke to him, her tone was teasing. "You still taste the same, Mitayo."  
  
He groaned. "Bailey, please, don't say things like that "  
  
She ducked her head in a shy nod. "I'm sorry," she apologized, smiling ashamedly. "But you do. And I couldn't resist a little joke to lighten things up."  
  
"I'm sorry, Bailey. I just can't betray Stormie like that."  
  
The female plant managed a halfhearted smile, letting a sigh escape past it. "No, it's ok - I wouldn't want you to have to hurt anyone either. Whatever is meant to be will work out, right?"  
  
He couldn't help but smile back.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Water distorts things. It creates illusions and ripples and tricks your eyes. Even dish water. Stormie frowned as she sunk her hands into the warm, soapy liquid, scrubbing halfheartedly at a dish from breakfast. Through her window at the sink, she could see Mitayo and Bailey walking, arm and arm, through the small garden, talking over the past, over their feelings, and over Xavier. Stormie wasn't blind - she could see that they were instantly attracted to each other, especially he to her.  
  
She sighed.  
  
Just when she thought she could actually love someone who would love her back... Her gaze lifted just in time for her to see Bailey lean up and kiss Mitayo, all without him resisting, though she couldn't clearly see him respond either. Nevertheless, a kiss is a kiss and Stormie felt her heart sink as the pit of her stomach contorted into knots.  
  
It hurt.  
  
Turning eyes back down to her task, she began to hum, for it always comforted her to do so when she felt down. At least it kept her mind off the current situation. "You can't resist her," she sang softly, lifting a dripping plate out to dry. "She's in your bones... She's in your marrow, and your ride...home..."  
  
Yes, Stormie was definitely in a melancholy mood.  
  
"You can't avoid her... She's in the air..." The song, she thought, definitely applied to Mitayo concerning Bailey. What were the odds his assigned mate from the plant would rise from the dead and come looking for him? What were the odds he would suddenly have feelings for her when before he had had none? "In between molecules of oxygen...and carbon dioxide..."  
  
Knives had been making his way down the hall when he heard the faint song wafting out on a breeze from the kitchen. Curious, he paused in the doorway and listened, and then towards the end of the chorus, through which she had began to furiously scrub at a pan, he joined her, something he never would've done two years ago.  
  
"...And so it seems...only in dreams..."  
  
She turned around in absolute shock, eyes wide, cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Kn-Knives," she said shakily.  
  
He nodded. "Need help?"  
  
"Yeah. Sure. You can dry." A rag was tossed his way.  
  
He took his place beside her, carefully rubbing at a bowl to clear out the water that had collected in a small pool inside, and said, "Don't stop singing just because I'm here."  
  
"I'm a little embarrassed now."  
  
"Don't be. It's your favorite song." He cleared his throat, and much to her surprise, softly sang, "You walk up to her...ask her to dance..."  
  
Stormie, chuckling, took off where he paused, singing, "She says, 'Hey baby, I just might take the chance'..."  
  
"You say it's a good thing, how you float in the ~air~...cuz there's no way I'll crush your pretty toe nails into a thousand pieces!" Teasingly, he gently stepped on her foot with his heel and ground down with just a light enough pressure that it wouldn't hurt, grinning at her when she laughed.  
  
"Knives, I'm such a fool," she said quietly when the humor had subsided. "Everyone saw me and Mitayo. You and Vash must think I've only grown more stupid over the years. I can't believe he did this to me."  
  
"He's the fool," spat Knives venomously.  
  
She turned around to face him, a frail smile on her lips. "Knives, you've been so nice to me these past few days. You haven't even told me I'm fat once this whole visit."  
  
He was shocked. "I never," he whispered in surprise, "thought you were fat."  
  
"You didn't?" She looked at him uncertainly, and undoubtedly, visions of their last moments together were flashing through both their minds. When he had cared for her after the encounter with Naoshi, how she had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder more than once, their whispered conversations in the night...  
  
"Never," he said firmly. "I like the way you look."  
  
She glanced away nervously and then looked back to him, lips curled up in sad, trembling smile. Leaning in, she kissed him gently, on the lips, and it seemed to last an hour or so, though it was but a few seconds. He leaned in - he'd been waiting for this, desperately, and he wanted to put his arms around her, but he couldn't move. When she pulled away, he licked his lips and stared at her, nervous and afraid, but all she said was, "Sometimes, Knives, I wish someone like you could love me, but I guess that's just wishful thinking."  
  
He watched her walk away, unable to stop her and tell her she could stop wishing, because he loved her, but it just happened to fast.  
  
He'd tell her tomorrow.  
  
But that'd mean waiting another day!  
  
Sitting down at the table, Knives picked up a dish rag and slapped himself in the face with it.  
  
He was such an idiot. 


	18. The Taste, the Scent of Cherries

Disclaimer: Don't own Trigun, as I believe I have previously stated.  
  
This is a sad chapter!! Or at least, I think it's sad... Yes, just when you thought it was winding up for ole' Knives and Stormie, there are most twists in the relationship! Thank you for all the reviews!  
  
Rocker Baby: *waves happily* Thank you soooo much for sticking with me! Hehe, that's your favorite line, eh? Cool! You have no idea how happy I am you said this story gives you could mental pictures! Don't you worry about Mitayo now - he will EVENTUALLY get the idea and leave Stormie alone. But that doesn't mean other men aren't prowling around out there... *dum dum DUM!*  
  
Elf-vulcan: I haven't seen you review before - thank you very much for joining me on my trip to insanity! Aww...I almost made you cry?! I'd say I was sorry if that didn't make me happy. Eh, not that I like to see you cry, but, yeah, it's nice my story touched you and...you know what I mean! ^_^  
  
Hello_lola: I know, Knives isn't the brightest crayon in the box, and he's slow to admit his feelings, but who doesn't love him? I know Stormie does ^_~  
  
Sami: Haha, thanks for the compliment - I appreciate it. Drama and humor are fun to mix, and it makes me happy that you think I can pull something like that off.  
  
R.K.: Yay! *eyes get big and watery in extreme happiness* I'll be sure to ignore flames because you believe in me! lol *nods head* Glad you like this fic so much.  
  
Kuja's Swan: Thank you so much for your kind words! They are greatly appreciated, and yes, I like the idea of feeling what the characters feel... Thank you very much! ^_^  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Grayfall watched with curious, unblinking eyes as Knives knelt on the other end of his bed, pressing his ear to the wall with a scowl of concentration. He'd been intent on trying to hear what the women in the room beside them were saying ever since Grayfall, who had been lying down on the cot, had informed him that he thought he'd heard Stormie say his name in the next room. It turned out that was a grave mistake for Legato's son, because since then, two hours ago, Knives had been trying to eavesdrop.  
  
The bedroom arrangement was as follows: In the main bedroom, where Stormie had always slept, was the owner of the house herself, Oriole, and Bailey. The guest room was occupied by Grayfall, Knives, and Mitayo, while Vash ended up supervising the children in Faith's room. Mitayo and Bailey were still strolling about in the moonlight and had yet to come in.  
  
"Knives, get away from there," Grayfall said flatly, quite tired of having a good deal of space on his bed taken up by the desperate plant. "They're not going to say anything about you."  
  
The other man frowned. "They were. But now they're talking about you."  
  
Grayfall's golden eyes widened in such a comical way that Knives grinned in satisfaction, the tidbit of shared information having the desired effect. He watched in amusement as the young man scrambled forward on hands and knees and leaned in against the wall as well, demanding, "What can you hear? Your hearing's better than mine!"  
  
"Well," Knives murmured, furrowing his brow and pausing to listen. "Oriole is talking. Saying something about...about...ugh. She's trying to explain to Stormie what you look like without your shirt on." Disgusted, he began to move away, but a strong hand clamped on his wrist to keep him in place.  
  
"Keep listening!" he whispered hurriedly. "I can't hear a thing!"  
  
Knives shook off the grip he had on him and rolled his eyes. "I don't want to hear her comment on how toned your muscles are, or your six-pack."  
  
With a disdainful glare shot at the plant, Grayfall clenched his jaw and pressed his ear closer to the wall.  
  
Knives settled back to mull over what he had heard concerning him. Stormie had been commenting on how much she was going to miss Mitayo and how wonderful he was, despite what he had done to her. One moment she was blaming him and calling him a heartless jerk and the next she was saying she understood and only wanted his happiness - a typical Stormie reaction. But, Oriole had brought up, what about Knives? You seem like you have a crush on him. Stormie's reply had been very quiet, but something along the lines of, 'I've been around him for twenty years and he never once showed interest in me. I waited and waited and just plain wasted my time. I think it'd be for the best if I just moved on to someone who would actually loved me back. He was never really my type anyway - sort of rude and bad- tempered. He is cute though.' Oriole had immediately commented on how Grayfall hadn't seemed her type but they were in love anyway, and didn't Stormie think he was equally cute? Yes, Stormie thought Grayfall was very handsome, although he always kept himself fully covered around her in loose pants and heavy turtlenecks. Hence the reason for Oriole's struggle to explain what her fiancé looked like shirtless.  
  
Girls.  
  
The door swung open and Mitayo strolled in, causing Knives to instantly bristle. Grayfall, who hadn't noticed the entrance, commented from his place at the wall, "Weird. They suddenly stopped talking."  
  
"Probably because Bailey just walked in their room," growled Knives, slowly rising to his feet. "I bet she just waltzed right in like nothing was wrong, too. Some people can be so inconsiderate."  
  
Mitayo's eyebrows raised as he realized that those words were meant for him as well. "Just because you're jealous that I have Stormie," he said briskly, "doesn't mean you have to be such a jerk."  
  
"Oh? You HAVE Stormie? Really, now. Tell us more, Mitayo." Knives tapped the side of his face condescendingly. "Because, you see, I thought that when you go around kissing other women, it basically terminates the relationship."  
  
The other plant's eyes widened in shock, darting once to an apathetic Grayfall and then back to one angry Knives. "What? You spying on me?"  
  
Knives shrugged. "Stormie told me." Well, not exactly. Stormie had told Oriole - he'd just overheard.  
  
"For your information," spat Mitayo, raising a defensive fist, "that kiss was one of friendship!" His face softened visibly. "Stormie saw? I better go explain."  
  
Knives was before him, blocking the door with outstretched arms before he could even blink. "No. Let Bailey. You and me have some things to sort out."  
  
"What's your problem?" Mitayo attempted to squeeze past, but Knives wasn't budging. Both men glared at each other. Hurriedly, upset, Mitayo shoved at his rival, needing to get through as his desperation grew, but the other man responded by drawing back his fist and punching him squarely in the jaw.  
  
And the fight erupted.  
  
Grayfall scrambled off the bed with a yell and threw himself into the middle of it, trying to pry apart the two fighting plants, but it was useless and he was tossed back onto the floor. Oh well, he sneered to himself, remaining there, it didn't matter. He'd just sit there and watch them knock each other out.  
  
"Mitayo!" a voice gasped, and the said man turned his head to see Bailey standing in the doorway, her hands covering her mouth in shock. Unfortunately, the distraction allowed his opponent enough time to deliver a powerful hit to his chest. He gasped in surprise and pain.  
  
"Move it," Stormie commanded of Bailey, shoving her to the side and dashing into the room, only to see Mitayo being beat - and badly. Her heart fluttered in fear. Suddenly, she was forgetting everything - the heartache and the kiss he'd given to Bailey, and all she felt was concern for his well being, anger at Knives for hurting him. Without a thought, she stepped in front of him, acting as a shield.  
  
It was just in time to block a hit from Knives. The left hook caught her chin, ripped it up, and wrenched a scream from her throat. As she stumbled back in agony and confusion, she felt strong arms encircle her and pull her to a firm chest, and she knew that she sunk to the floor with him, her knees buckling, that it was Mitayo who was so carefully guiding her to the ground.  
  
Knives took a step back, aghast at what he'd done. He hadn't even seen Stormie! Why would she get in his way to save a dog like Mitayo? "Stormie!" he cried out, his voice hoarse. "I didn't - I didn't see you!"  
  
Tears were dripping from her glazed, blue eyes as she tried to focus her bleary vision. Dazed, she murmured, "S'ok, Knives... Not your fault." But her voice trembled as she fought back her sobs. Her hand sought to touch her chin, for she was sure it had been split and was bleeding, but it wasn't - although a nasty bruise was quickly forming.  
  
Mitayo held her gently to him, rocking her back and forth as she let out trembling breaths, running a soothing hand through her hair. "You ok, Stormie?" he whispered, and the nod she gave him was barely perceptible through all her trembling. It had obviously shaken her up a bit.  
  
Knives knelt down and tenderly lay a hand to her back, murmuring her name.  
  
"Stay back!" snapped Mitayo. "You've done quite enough!"  
  
Knives did back off, confused and ashamed.  
  
Stormie's weak voice rose in protest, trying to be heard above the darkness that was setting in on her world. "It's not Knives' fault!" she choked out. "Don't yell at him..."  
  
"You need to lay down," Mitayo said softly, gathering her up in his arms and rising to his feet, carrying her out the door and towards her own bedroom. "And we should talk about that kiss you saw earlier..."  
  
Knives buried his face in his hands, saying nothing to anyone. He'd hurt Stormie. Could she ever forgive him?  
  
He couldn't.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"It looks horrible," Stormie moaned, tenderly poking at the bruise forming along her jaw. Scrutinizing, she squinted at her reflection in the mirror. "Hmm...Knives is strong. No wonder Mitayo was losing. He about knocked me out."  
  
Grayfall, who was standing behind her, arms crossed, stated, "He feels really bad, you know."  
  
"He shouldn't. It was my stupid fault." She grinned. "But it wasn't for nothing! Mitayo explained all about the kiss and now we're officially together! In fact, today, we're going to go visit Desma and Desiree for some final planning on how to deal with Naoshi and I'm feeling so secure, I even told him to bring Bailey. Haha - you can tell I'm happy, right?"  
  
Grayfall nodded solemnly, not wanting to admit he felt uneasy about her choosing Mitayo over Knives. "I have to meet Oriole now. We're going into town."  
  
"Just as well. Mitayo and Bailey and I should be leaving!" And with that, she merrily skipped out of the room and into the kitchen, singing at the top of her lungs all the way. Faith, who was emerging from her room, being dragged along by Vash and protesting she wasn't hungry for dinner, shot her mother a questioning look at seeing the ugly bruise. It was the first time she'd seen it since Stormie had slept most of the day away and then covered it up with an ice pack whenever she emerged. "Got in a brawl last night, you know!" she trilled in reply.  
  
Vash, who had heard nothing of it either, since no one had wanted to relive it, shook his head and looked down at the girl, quietly reassuring, "She probably just walked into a door or something..."  
  
Stormie met Mitayo and Bailey in the kitchen, both having been waiting for her patiently, silent and avoiding the other's gaze. They seemed especially nervous around each other lately, but Stormie chose to ignore it, grabbing her new boyfriend's arm and yanking him towards the door. "Let's go!" she cried. "It's already getting dark! Desma and Desiree are expecting us!"  
  
The car ride there was relatively uneventful, full of Stormie's cheerful chattering and Mitayo's replies, and even a few of Bailey's quiet murmurs. She seemed uncomfortable around Stormie, and admitted she was extremely nervous about meeting the new plants, so the other woman saw no harm in taking a little pity and telling her she could wait at the car with Mitayo while she went to fetch Mitayo and Desiree so they could all pile into the jeep and head to the restaurant they'd planned on going over things at while eating.  
  
Smiling and telling them she'd return soon, she headed off into the underbrush, threading her way through the desert scrub and towards the tiny cabin, glancing back over her shoulder at them until they were hidden by the dense, coarse vegetation. She trusted Mitayo, and Bailey seemed nice enough. Surely nothing would go wrong.  
  
Something appeared out of place though when she approached Desma's house, for the lights burned dim in the windows with no movement or signs of activity occurring inside. Cautiously, she knocked on the door, but when no answer came, she swung open the door and stepped inside. The first thing that caught her attention was the disarray - chairs scattered across the floor along with papers and broken glass. The second was the smell, and then sight, of blood. She gasped in horror.  
  
"Naoshi?" she murmured, bending to scoop up a broken chair leg to use as a weapon lest the plant assassin, who was surely the culprit, attack her. However, when she turned, she came face to face with not the man she had been expecting.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Mitayo tapped his finger impatiently against his knee. Where was Stormie? Hadn't she gotten them yet? He felt uncomfortable being alone with Bailey, because there was some kind of unrequited love there - though he didn't know quite how to explain it. Memories, perhaps the same ones running through her head at the very moment, haunted him like a ghost.  
  
~*~You're so...young. What's your name?~*~  
  
~*~It's Bailey.~*~  
  
~*~ Are you crying?~*~  
  
~*~Yes...I'm very scared...~*~  
  
Bailey jumped out of the jeep and began to walk in small circles, no doubt stretching her legs. Deciding it was a good idea, he followed suit, commenting quietly, "She's probably forgotten all about us. Sat down for tea with Desma or something."  
  
Bailey laughed softly. "While we wait, tell me more about Xavier."  
  
"Hey, I think I've told you all I know," he replied quietly. "You cold?" He asked this because she had begun to shiver, hugging her arms close to her chest and bowing her head, blonde hair falling into her gray eyes. Such pretty eyes...  
  
"A little."  
  
He took off his jacket and draped it carefully around her shoulders, smiling. "You always did get cold so easy."  
  
"Yes." She cast her eyes down, clutching the warm material to herself. "I do." A long pause followed, a lull in the conversation that caused both to shift edgily.  
  
~*~...ah! Bailey! What happened?! Did they hurt you?~*~  
  
~*~I...I...I don't think so. It's just...~*~  
  
~*~You're shaking. Are you ok?~*~  
  
~*~I'm very cold. More than anything, I am cold.~*~  
  
~*~But they hit you...~*~  
  
~*~It's ok, Mitayo. Don't worry about me. They hit you all the time and you survive. It's ok Just...sit here with me and let me lean on you, ok? I'm really cold and...you're very warm. You always warm me...~*~  
  
He sniffed the air, cool and crisp and smelling faintly of something...exotic. "Hmm. The wind smells like...cherries? That's weird. There isn't a cherry tree within miles of here. Wonder what it could be."  
  
Bailey hid her mouth behind a dainty hand, chuckling. "The first time you kissed me, you said I tasted like cherries."  
  
"I did, didn't I?" His gaze drifted away as he recalled the moment with a blush, remembering how he had struggled, as inexperienced in romance as he was, to try to make her feel not so embarrassed by complimenting her. Brought back to the present by a small hand slipping into his own, he looked over at her and sighed heavily, asking, "Did you know how scared I was when I thought you died?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"Right after Eleven was born, that seemed to be all they wanted - just the baby - and I was standing there beside you and you were lying in bed, passed out and bleeding all over the place... They never did anything. Just ignored you and after a while took you away. It scared me half to death - it was like a murder or something." He ran his free hand through his blonde hair, frowning. "Man...how in the world did you survive that?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," she muttered, staring down at her feet. "Just scared of dying, I guess. Didn't want to go in a place like that with my whole life being wasted in the plant. Kinda wanted to see you again - and our kid. Funny thing is, I was so sure it was a girl - no one ever told me."  
  
With a frown, he tugged her closer, into a warm embrace, held her shivering body closer with naught a thought for what he was doing and whether it was right or wrong. His hand ran over her back gently and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, tears flowing from his eyes in an uncontrollable river. He barely understood why he was crying.  
  
Bailey leaned into him, asking without words if he remembered how young she'd been and how scared. He remembered, his mental vibes assured her, and he always would.  
  
~*~Wow...you're so much farther along than when I last saw you!~*~  
  
~*~Eight months.~*~  
  
~*~Are they treating you well?~*~  
  
~*~Of course. Wouldn't want to damage the goods, would they now?~*~  
  
~*~I'm glad they let me come see you. I've thought a lot of you and how you must be faring. Do you know what the baby is?~*~  
  
~*~No one tells me anything.~*~  
  
~*~Do you...mind if I kiss you?~*~  
  
~*~I'd like it very much, Mitayo, if you would.~*~  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie gasped - this man was not Naoshi! No, he was clothed in a familiar uniform though. He was from a plant. Her mind desperately grasped for answers. Could she have led them here when she freed Mitayo and Xavier? Did they have Desma and Desiree in their captivity? Surely they wouldn't harm them too badly!  
  
She raised the chair leg to smash it down on his head, but a bullet ripped through her shoulder, throwing her back as she stumbled in a blur of pain and anger. The man approached her and she tried to ready her angel arm, but it wouldn't work. Maybe she was too panicked, or the bullet had damaged something, but somehow the process was being delayed.  
  
He shot at her again and she scrambled out of the way, seeing other men pouring through the door. Her heart was ready to explode in fear and she wondered why, WHY hadn't she brought Mitayo with her?! They tried to capture, tried to hold her down, and she kicked and punched and struggled and screamed and felt sharp knives puncturing and slicing at her skin. She threw them off and dashed for the door, only to be tackled and to feel the ground collide with a sickening thud against her skull. Blood seeped down her brow and into her eyes, sticky and hot and thick. Actually, blood was all over her body now.  
  
She rolled onto her back and clawed at her sleeve, screaming as the pain combined with the power of her angel arm starting to flicker into existence coursed through her limbs.  
  
The crowd backed away, staring at her and at the giant cannon sudden replacing her arm.  
  
One man leveled his gun with her leg and shot again, trying to slow her down, and it did, but not enough. Crying out, anger and pain and sorrow all jumbled around in her soul, she blasted each and every one of them away.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Desma and Desiree were not in the truck. Perhaps they had been carted back to the plant already. Stormie didn't care to reason at the moment as she painfully stumbled and dragged her broken body through the thick underbrush back to the jeep, the branches scraping at her and tearing at her clothes. She left them painted with blood.  
  
A sigh of relief passed her lips as she broke through the very last of it, coming out about ten yards from the jeep. She opened her mouth to call Mitayo's name, but she could not bring herself to. The scene before her killed any words before they leapt from her throat.  
  
Mitayo was hugging Bailey close, running his hand through her hair, staring down at her. Lovingly. They seemed locked in their own world, sharing a bond that was impossible for her to achieve no matter how hard she tried. Bailey's gaze wasn't just adoring, but rather grateful, an air of hesitation hanging heavy over the two of them as if they both were thinking about something, remembering something, but didn't know if they should act upon it. And then he ducked down his head to kiss her gently, lingering, pressing his lips firmly to hers.  
  
Stormie stumbled back, nearly falling. She choked on a sob. How...how could he?! Fine! She'd walk home! Anything to get away from those two! She absolutely refused to ride home with them. Not after how he had betrayed her...  
  
Stumbling blindly through the sand, crying soundlessly and trying to wipe the blood out of her eyes and off her face, she never saw the figure standing up ahead. Instead, she walked blindly towards him, stumbling back when she ran smack into his chest. He caught her, saving her the fall, and lifted her battered form gently into his arms. Exhausted, willing to take comfort in anyone at that moment, she let herself fall limp and relaxed in the stranger's strong arms, head rolling onto his shoulder. And with the last fleeting moments of consciousness that she possessed, she tilted back her head and gazed up at her rescuer.  
  
"Naoshi...?" 


	19. Nurse Naoshi

Yay! Don't own Trigun but I own Grayfall, Oriole, Stormie, Mitayo, Bailey, Xavier, Faith, AND Naoshi! Wow, that's a lot of original characters. Hmm.  
  
Rockerbaby: Ah, I can always count on an interesting review from you! lol You make reviews very fun to read, so please, keep up what you're doing!  
  
Sami: Yep! You hit it dead on! Just watch and see how strange it's gonna get...  
  
hello_lola: I know! Lots of people wanted Mitayo to get beat up, but...er, I can understand the guy. Well, I should, I made him up - but anyhow, I mean, people just hate him because of how he stands in the way of Stormie and Knives. But, you see, he actually is trying to care for her, and, although he made a BIG mistake, it's a little understandable - oh, and I had to do something to get Knives in the picture ^_^ Keep reviewing and thank you so much for voicing your opinions!  
  
R.K.: I had the funnest time imagining you throwing that huge, Vash-like fit! Yes, I like cliff-hangers...hehe  
  
JediGal 101: Well, I'm glad you have started reading this! Hope you continue to like it!  
  
Bluechromedragon: Well, I think I'll be finished with this story in the next few weeks. Yeah, sure, put a link from my story on your website! Thanks for reading!  
  
Fyredra: Does that mean you liked it? lol j/j ^_^  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Oriole had gone to bed early, exhausted from a full day of activities in town and worn out from the extreme heat. This left Grayfall alone and, consequently, bored. Standing by the window at the kitchen, he gazed thoughtlessly into the sand, very much aware that Stormie, Mitayo, and Bailey had not come and it was well past midnight. Actually, it reminded him of the time both he and Oriole had sat out in the kitchen of Stormie's old house and waited up for her, only realizing something was wrong when the Death Song screamed full force in his ears. They had called Knives back then to rescue her, and this time around, the said plant was sitting at the kitchen table, chair tipped back, feet propped up on the table top, scowling as if the thought of going out searching for her was gnawing away at his mind.  
  
Grayfall turned his head with a frown, looking at his part time rival, and asked, "You're worried about her, aren't you?"  
  
Knives, chewing on the end of his sleeve, nodded his head.  
  
A few more moments passed by in silence and then the sound of the back door opening and banging shut along with the shuffling of feet broke the tension in the air. Knives' shoulders slumped in relief and Grayfall whirled around, hurriedly walking out to greet the trio finally returning home.  
  
Vash had beat him to it, a confused frown on his face when he looked over his shoulder to see Grayfall enter the room. Mitayo and Bailey, looking slightly guilty, stood before him. "Grayfall, get Knives," Vash murmured. "Stormie is...gone."  
  
Knives was bounding out of the kitchen already, the infamous eavesdropper striking once more. "She's gone?!" he spat, glaring at Mitayo. "Where?!"  
  
He looked around at the other men helplessly, sighing in exasperation. "I don't know! She told us to wait for her at the jeep and she never showed up! When we went to Desma's house to check on her, the place was full of dead plant workers. She wasn't there though, so we drove around looking for her - saw a few spots of blood, but she was long gone."  
  
Bailey, still hugging Mitayo's coat tight to her, glanced down in shame. "It's all my fault," she whispered, and Mitayo sent her a desperate glance  
  
"What...did you do?" whispered Knives, ice blue eyes widening.  
  
Bailey looked at him frantically and then away again, biting her lip. "I think she might've...seen us...when we kissed. Again."  
  
"YOU!" Knives slammed Mitayo back into the wall, hands gripping his shoulders, and came nose to nose with him, snarling in hate. "I hope you are happy, you piece of dirt! You fed her all these lies about your 'friendship kiss' and then you're bold enough to go and kiss your little friend again - right in front of her! Yeah, what kind of friends are you guys?! Friends with benefits?!"  
  
Bailey turned away, her face red with embarrassment. Tears of shame and hurt sparkled in her eyes.  
  
"She's been hurt before, you idiot!" continued Knives, his vision blurring and swaying in his intense anger. "Do you even understand how hard it must've been for her to trust you?! Now she's out there, hurt and alone, and all you can do is stand here and say that you did everything you could to find her! You jerk! I hate you! I HATE YOU! You never deserved her!" His fists unclenched with great effort and he stepped back, only to turn to Bailey with a spiteful expression. "And you!" he exclaimed, shaking a fist and stepping forward. "You're pretty bold to waltz into Stormie's home and then subtly THROW HER OUT OF IT! I can't believe -"  
  
"Woah, Knives!" cried Vash, throwing his arms around his brother and yanking him back away from the couple, trying to drag him out of the room before he got violent. Knives continued to hurl insults at Bailey all the way until the younger woman burst into tears and Oriole was poking her head out of the bedroom in confusion, asking what was going on.  
  
Grayfall got his coat and waited for Knives by the door, knowing that sooner or later they'd be out in a loosely formed search party.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie felt very feverish, very sick. Had all her injuries brought on this illness? She sighed and tossed restlessly in the soft bed she had found herself in, never opening her eyes, not wanting to know if her seeing Naoshi was a hallucination or not. She'd been alone for such a long time, weak and not wanting to move lest she find out that something was horribly wrong with her body. Where was her rescuer? Or was he a kidnapper...?  
  
She felt her stomach revolting and she feared she would throw up, so, not wanting to vomit all over the bed and herself, thus creating more of a mess, she dizzily sat up and looked slowly around the room, trying to steady it as well as herself. There! An open door led to a bathroom, and swinging her feet over the bed, she attempted to stand and make her way there. Her knees buckled and she crashed to the floor, pain shooting through her legs. Pitifully, on all fours, she crawled to the bathroom, swallowing hard to keep her stomach under control until her hands touched the cool tiles.  
  
The bedroom door opened - she heard it but paid no mind. The footsteps were heavy on the wooden floor, slow and pausing just outside the door until she had finished being sick. Then, the figure continued in and knelt down beside where she was slumped over on the floor, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth.  
  
"Hey," he said quietly, "get back in bed. You're very ill."  
  
She didn't look up because she knew the voice, and if she saw the face, she wouldn't be able to accept his help, which she desperately needed in order to make it back to her bed. Her hand reached out for him, and he gently took it, lifting her up and letting her lean on him in such a way that most of her weight was transferred to him and she barely had to shuffle her feet to make it back to her sanctuary. However, when she came to be lying down, she found herself with no choice but to stare up into those calm, amethyst and blue eyes regarding her with an air of curiosity.  
  
She smiled faintly. This was the end.  
  
"Kill me, why don't you?" she murmured. "I don't care anymore."  
  
He was sitting on the side of the bed, his long, white hair tied back into a loose braid. No longer was he in assassin gear, as she was so used to, but rather a pair of gray sweat pants and a black T-shirt, which caused her to notice she was now clothed in a bathrobe. Pityingly, he smiled at her, one eyebrow arching elegantly. "You're selfish, aren't you?"  
  
Being called selfish by the plant assassin, and somehow feeling he was right, let her know she'd sunk to a new low. "What do you mean?"  
  
"You're upset because of your boyfriend, but he will mean very little to you in the long run. Yet here you are, asking for your death because you're in pain? You haven't even given a thought to our daughter - what would she do without you? Hmm? You might want to think of these things before you ask someone to take your life next time." At her shocked look, he carefully explained, "You talk a lot in your sleep."  
  
She stared at him in awe. "You schizophrenic?"  
  
"Perhaps." He smiled again and stood to leave. "It's morning. Breakfast. You want some?"  
  
How absurd, she thought, to be talking to the man who had attempted to murder her, who had raped her with seemingly no regret and then kidnapped her daughter. Never had she imagined herself here - lying in his bed with a bad case of the flu or something like it while he offered her something to eat.  
  
"No," she said stiffly, rolling over so she wouldn't have to face him. Geesh, she wanted to drawl in a whiny voice. "Stop acting like my nurse or something!  
  
He left after that, not saying a word.  
  
The day passed by slowly, and Stormie found herself quickly getting over whatever ailed her, though her wounds were stiff and sore. Naoshi opened the door, stood there, and stared at her for a few moments before leaving at least ten times, probably just to make sure she hadn't died or something. It was a curious thing, how he seemed like he was actually going to let her live. She was a plant - why didn't he just kill her? Oh yeah, probably because of Faith - didn't want her to hate him more than she already did.  
  
The next morning, she got up and tiptoed out to the kitchen, trying to find out where she was and if she recognized any landmarks. Not a one.  
  
Naoshi was not up yet, a curious thing since she had always imagined him to be an early waker, so she began to pad back down the carpeted halls to her room, but halfway there, she was stopped by the sound of a woman's voice. It didn't sound right though - too distant and almost mechanical. Intrigued, she slipped up to a slightly ajar door and peeked inside, finding herself staring into Naoshi's bedroom.  
  
The plant assassin was sitting cross-legged on his bed, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, wearing a pair of black boxer shorts and nothing else. In his left hand was a carton of fried rice, and in the other, a fork, his back to her as he focused his attention mainly on the TV screen across from him.  
  
Stormie's eyes widened as she realized what he was watching.  
  
Home movies.  
  
Billy was on screen, younger and with shoulder-length black hair, gently cradling a baby in her arms as she smiled and laughed and waved the camera away. Every now and then, Naoshi, who was obviously the camera man in the film, would flip the video camera around and grin into the lens, making some sort of smart little remark or laughing or grinning or winking or something absolutely unlike the man she thought he was. The scene on the TV jostled horribly as the camera was deposited gently on the coffee table and Billy sat down on the couch, Naoshi hopping into place beside her and kissing her on the cheek as she grinned madly. Fuzz replaced any significant moments for the next few seconds and then the screen was enveloped by white. Sheets, Stormie soon realized as she heard Naoshi's taunting voice, singing for Billy to wake up. A head of black hair poked out from the covers just before they were flung back and a grouchy looking young woman emerged, swatting at the camera and causing everything to go blank. More memories caught on film followed - Naoshi trying to teach their son to walk, to plant a delicate flower in a small pot, Vincent climbing onto Naoshi as he lay exhausted in bed, an arm slung over his eyes.  
  
Stormie pulled back, an almost eerie feeling settling into the pit of her stomach after seeing such a display. Naoshi was one very confused man, she decided - someone who wanted a family so badly yet was intent on wiping out an entire race. Quietly, she began to leave.  
  
It was almost like how Knives had once been, she thought as she slowly turned a corner. Wanting to wipe the planet clean of any human life so he and his brother could live in peace.  
  
A hand clamped down on her shoulder, spinning her around. Naoshi stared at her, all emotion gone from his eyes. "You saw?"  
  
She bit her lip, not knowing what would upset him more, saying she had, or lying and denying it. Finally, she nodded.  
  
He looked almost crest-fallen as he backed away, asking quietly, "Billy...her and Vincent are back with her parents?" When Stormie said nothing, he smirked. "Trust me, if I wanted to do them harm, I would've tracked them down by now. I just want to know if she's ok."  
  
"Why?" asked Stormie warily. "You shot her..."  
  
His eyes narrowed. "She tried to take my son and my daughter away," he growled, as if that was enough reason to pull a gun on anyone at any time.  
  
Stormie clenched her jaw. "You took my daughter away!"  
  
"OUR daughter," he reminded her, eyes growing steely and cold. "She's OUR daughter." He paused, placed a hand to the side of his head as if to run fingers through his hair but never carrying through with the action.  
  
"Only your daughter too because you raped me," she countered angrily, "which I never forgave you for! You sicko-freako! You really think Faith would want to get to know you after I've told her the truth and what you did to me?!" Her voice drained away in exhaustion and she let her hands, which she had thrown up, drop down to her sides again. "Why?" she whispered. "Why'd you do what you did? You should've killed me..."  
  
"I didn't want to kill you after that," he answered coldly. "You were too beautiful."  
  
And before Stormie could answer, he had disappeared back into his room and shut the door.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"STORMIE!" Knives called, his hands cupped around the sides of his mouth as he screamed uselessly into the desert air, Grayfall off to the side of him. "STORMIE! WHERE ARE YOU?!" His throat burned and his voice had grown hoarse from constantly calling for the woman, desperate to find her.  
  
Grayfall, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun, turned to face him, yelling out, "Knives! We're wasting our time here! Let's go to town and see if anyone has seen her!"  
  
As much as he hated to admit it, the blonde man knew his brunette partner was right, and the two progressed slowly back to the jeep.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"I wonder if Knives is looking for me," Stormie pondered quietly in her room - the room Naoshi had given her. Drawing her knees to her chest, she sighed and traced abstract little patterns on the bed sheets, wondering what the plant assassin planned to do with her. He had barely spoken to her since their encounter earlier that morning, and he didn't seem to wish her harm, so what was the deal? He gave her free reign through the house, let her do as she pleased - she was a prisoner in the loosest sense of the word. "I wonder if Faith is doing alright," she sighed. Then bitterly, "I bet Mitayo hasn't even noticed I'm gone."  
  
The door swung open and Naoshi stood there, looking very wet with hair matted to his face and liquid dripping from his body and blue swim trunks. "Wanna go for a swim?" he asked, and Stormie looked at him as if he was some psychopath - which wasn't totally untrue. "What? You don't know how?"  
  
"Nor do I have a suit," she muttered. "And why would I be stupid enough to get in a pool with you? You'll pry drown me."  
  
"It's not on my agenda to knock you off - or haven't you gotten the clue?" he sneered, tossing a two piece suit at her, a dark blue bikini bottom and a modest teal top. "It was Billy's. You can wear it. Meet me at the pool when you're ready." And as usual, he disappeared, fading into the shadows.  
  
Stormie threw the suit back at the door for two reasons. One was that she hated Naoshi, and the second was that she wasn't about to put on Billy's suit when the woman was thinner, tinier, and all the way around prettier.  
  
However, an hour passed and she grew bored, so, venturing out to the indoor pool area, she sat down on one of the lawn chairs set up and watched disinterestedly as Naoshi completed fast, steady laps around the perimeter of the swimming area, not even looking up for a good ten minutes. When he finally did, a small smile tugged at his lips. "I take it you're not coming in."  
  
"No."  
  
"Hmm. Too bad. Water's nice and cool - and the air conditioning is broken in the house, so..."  
  
Stormie had to admit; it was a tad hot for her taste. But no! Nothing, not even personal discomfort, was going to make her get in that pool with Naoshi! "When can I go home?" she growled. "Faith is probably worried to death."  
  
He frowned, brow creasing. "Soon, ok? Just try to enjoy your stay here."  
  
"Yeah - ok, enjoy my stay here...WITH THE MAN WHO RAPED ME TWO YEARS AGO! What an ideal vacation..."  
  
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did it."  
  
It surprised her, his calm, if not sad, answer, but she was determined not to show him the least speck of kindness. She raised a hand and wiped the sweat from her brow and cursed the heat. Why did the pool have to look so inviting?! Well, it couldn't hurt to just sit on the edge and dangle her feet in it, could it? Sitting down on the hard stone and tenderly sliding one bruised, cut leg in after the other, she kicked and splashed gently, noting Naoshi was right and the water was a great relief.  
  
He swam over to where she had made herself comfortable, splashing her gently. "Come in."  
  
"Not wearing the suit."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So?!"  
  
With an almost feral grin he grabbed her by the knees and jerked her forward and over the edge. A scream made its way through her throat just before she was immersed fully in the water, her head going under, panic setting in. He was trying to drown her!  
  
Maybe not.  
  
Naoshi quickly grabbed her and brought her to the surface, and she, not knowing how to so much as dog paddle, clung to him for dear life. "NAOSHI!" she screeched, clawing at his shoulders and hugging herself tight to his bare chest, which was perhaps what he had hoped to accomplish. "I HATE YOU!"  
  
"Too bad," he chuckled, gently kicking his legs out and spreading out to float on his back with her lying on top, using him as a raft. "Cuz you're stuck with me. Just relax - I'm a very good swimmer."  
  
She whimpered, hating the circumstances. "This isn't funny!" she cried.  
  
Ignoring her complaints, he began to sing under his breath, and the song all but stopped her heart. "Only in dreams, we see what it means..." he murmured, not even noticing how her eyes widened considerably. "Reach out our hands, hold onto hers...but when we wake, it's all been erased...and so it seems - only in dreams..."  
  
"My song..." she gasped, recalling the last time she had sang it, back in the kitchen with Knives. "You...you know my song!"  
  
He raised his eyebrow at her in surprise, replying calmly, "It's your favorite too?"  
  
"Ugh! Now I REALLY hate you!" She pounded a fist on his chest, causing him to sputter and momentarily sink, which also caused panic on her part. When both rose to the surface again, she started to frantically try to reach for the edge of the pool, not liking how her feet touched nothing but open, open water.  
  
Noashi, still catching his breath, weakly swam to the side, dragging her along. "Next time," he wheezed, "I suggest you NOT try to knock the wind out of the person keeping you afloat!"  
  
"You're just full of suggestions, aren't ya'?" she shot back, her hands gripping the edge of the pool wall thankfully as she felt her heart return to a somewhat normal beat. Beginning to pull her sopping wet self out, she found herself weighed down heavily by both her soaking robe and Naoshi, who had attached himself to her waist and was patiently waiting for her to discover that he wasn't letting go. "What are you DOING?!" she cried, tears springing to her eyes. She didn't like this - not at all.  
  
Ironically, her words seemed to snap him out of a daze, as if he was just now realizing what his actions were. He moved his hands slowly, instead placing them on either side of her shoulders and trapping her against the wall with his long, lean body, staring into her eyes with his own two, so beautiful and bedazzling, wasted on a killer like himself. "I don't know," he said quietly, and leaned in hesitantly as if to kiss her.  
  
Quickly, sharply, she turned her head and closed her eyes. He stopped just short of his lips touching her slick cheek, and she felt his warm breath on her wet skin. Then, he pulled away, looked at her with a sigh, and lifted her quickly to deposit her on dry ground, next climbing out himself. "Towels are by the door," he informed the woman as he exited the room.  
  
She didn't move. The shock was still very fresh. The fact that he'd almost kissed her wasn't even what was scaring her - it was the suspicion that she regretted turning away.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Xavier sat in the corner of Faith's room, curled up in a ball with head tucked to drawn up legs and arms encircling himself. He had said nothing, but heard everything. Both children had. The whole argument between Knives and Mitayo had been loud enough for just about everyone to pick up on. Silently, the child cried into his knees.  
  
Faith sat at his side, tenderly rubbing his back, trying to comfort him. Ironic how she was the one with a mother who had disappeared yet he was the one taking it so hard. "She'll come back, Xavier," she said confidently. "Mom always does."  
  
He raised his head, staring with bleary, red eyes straight ahead. His long blonde hair, usually tied back in a ponytail, had come loose and was sticking to his tear-stained face and cascading about his shoulders. "I'm upset," he sniffled, "because of what my dad did to your mom."  
  
Faith's face fell. She had to admit, she didn't like Mitayo very much anymore.  
  
"I mean," he continued softly, "I really liked your mom - she was sort of like my mother too, and I was happy they started to like each other. But then my real mom came back, and I thought I liked her too, but I ALWAYS liked Stormie better and now I just don't know what to think of my parents! How could they do something like this...?"  
  
His female companion's expression grew tense. "I don't know what to think either."  
  
"Should I be mad, Faith?"  
  
"I dunno - I mean, he IS your dad..."  
  
"But how could he do this?! And my mother - she keeps trying to talk to me but I just don't feel comfortable with her anymore. They really hurt Stormie. They just...it was so wrong, Faith. I trusted my dad and he let me down too." He opened his mouth to say more, but Mitayo passed by the doorway just then, stepping in and causing silence to fall.  
  
"Eleven," he said gently, kneeling by his son and touching his cheek, "why won't you talk to your mother? She's very hurt that you refuse to speak to her."  
  
Xavier slapped his father's hand away, spitting out, "My name is Xavier! I've told you a million times! A number isn't a name. And she is NOT my mother! I hate her! Look at what she did to Stormie!"  
  
Mitayo was taken back by gentle Xavier's rebuke. "Xavier, we made a mistake. We're very sorry. We're doing all we can to find Stormie - and she IS your mother, and she loves you very much. Please, give her a chance."  
  
Xavier leapt to his feet, glaring at the man in front of him, pouring out all his anger and hate and pain in one solitary moment. "You told her you loved her!" he cried. "You lied to Stormie and you lied to me! I can NEVER forgive you! Stormie was more my parent than you or Bailey will ever be! You couldn't even come to see me when I was hurt! You - you just sat out in the kitchen and kept away! Stormie was the one who took care of me and sat up all night with me! Not you! You don't want me and neither does Bailey! And I don't want you either." With that said, he pushed past and stalked away.  
  
Mitayo turned to Faith, who still sat in the corner, looking down at her hands in her lap. "I suppose you hate me too?" he asked tiredly.  
  
She glanced up at him, then back down, and shrugged her thin shoulders. "Yeah," she whispered. "You...I really thought you'd be different."  
  
But, she added quietly to herself, I should've known better. It's always the same.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Review! 


	20. Needing Someone

Ah, reviews slowed down to a trickle on this one! lol I was starting to get concerned...but, it all ended fine with some good reviews!  
  
Rocker Baby: You worried me! For a minute there I thought you had quit reading because it took you a few days to review, and I must say the thought of that horrified me to no end! Haha ^_^ But, you did review, and it made me so happy! Thank you for being my fan! *gives a cookie*  
  
Kuja's Swan: Oh, please! Do draw Naoshi! That'd be great! When you draw him, please allow me to see the picture either through an e-mail or a link (if you post it on the net somewhere)! That'd be VERY cool ^_^  
  
Sami: Hehe...it is scary, huh? Yep, Naoshi is one weird guy - oh, and the thing Faith is talking about, here it is in this chapter! Be confused no longer!  
  
Mali: You're like the first reviewer who's sympathetic to Mitayo! lol Hmm...I felt bad for him too... And you finished this in one sitting? @_@ Amazing...I have not your patience! lol  
  
R.K1: I'm updating! Yay! Idiots...*sigh* They're only amusing for so long, right? Haha.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Vash knew it was probably wrong to feel left out of the action, and it wasn't like he was jealous that his brother played a bigger part or anything, but he just wasn't used to sitting by idly and doing nothing. Usually he was the one saving a friend, but now whenever he asked to help, Knives was already way ahead of him, having been there and done that. The best Vash could do was baby-sit the kids. What a switch.  
  
He flopped back on the hammock set up on Stormie's porch, sighing in exasperation. What had become of him? He suddenly found himself lonely and deserted. Even Knives had someone out there - even if she was currently kidnapped.  
  
"Great," he muttered to himself. "At least I'm not pining over Meryl anymore..."  
  
The screen door creaked in protest as someone forced it open and then slammed it shut, and he turned his head to see a tall, lean man with broad shoulders and dark hair that hid one golden from sight. Grayfall, wearing his customary black turtleneck and gray jeans, looked over and smiled slightly. "Vash," he greeted quietly.  
  
Vash grinned and waved. "Hey, Grayfall! How's it going?"  
  
He sighed, shoulders rising and falling tiredly. "Could be better. The kids are upset, Oriole is being bombarded by the emotions of everyone under this roof, Mitayo and Bailey are distressed because they know they are not wanted yet have nowhere to go, and Knives is being excessively aggressive, and you, my friend, are the only one who is in a good mood."  
  
Vash frowned. "Yeah, well - you know me." He paused, watched the other man seat himself on the railing, and then hesitantly asked, "Grayfall, do you still resent my brother for killing Legato?"  
  
A pained expression crossed Grayfall. "I prefer not to think of it. Knives...Knives and I are working towards a common goal now, and I will not let that stand in the way of achieving it. Besides, it's not like my father actually cared enough to stick around. ...or at least that's what I tell myself. Please, Vash, it's too painful to talk about right now."  
  
Vash nodded. "I'm sorry about everything, Grayfall."  
  
"Don't be."  
  
"Is there anything I can do to help? I mean, help ANYONE! Not just Knives or you, but anyone!" He laughed, the movement of his arms as he threw them out rocking the hammock back and forth until he tumbled out with a shout.  
  
Grayfall's eyes glowed with humor at watching the goofy outlaw clamber back to his feet. "I have a favor to ask, if it isn't too much."  
  
"Shoot away!"  
  
"I want you to..." He stopped mid-sentence, if only to watch Vash hang on his every word. "Take Oriole out to dinner in town, and then take her someplace quiet and peaceful. Get her to relax."  
  
Green eyes widened in surprise. "But, wouldn't you rather take her out on a date?"  
  
"It's not a date, Vash," stressed Grayfall. "And I can't do this. She needs to get away from anyone whose main thoughts are circling Naoshi now. If anyone can take her mind off these problems and to radiate some happiness, it's you."  
  
Vash still looked doubtful. "Gee, I dunno..."  
  
"Alright. But I would've thought that with your charming reputation you wouldn't hesitate to take such a lovely woman out to dinner." Grayfall's voice dripped with sarcasm.  
  
That got a laugh out of the blonde plant. "You're right. Tell her to get dressed. The night awaits us!"  
  
~~~~~  
  
"But, Vash, I don't understand where we're going..."  
  
Vash, strutting down the dirt road into town and feeling very much like his old, cocky self with his yellow-tinted shades perched low on his nose and a pretty girl hanging on his arm, threw back his head and laughed. "We're going out for a night on the town!" he cried. "Fun, fun for everyone!"  
  
Oriole frowned, seeming to be pondering this. She knew Grayfall had set it up - heck, he'd been the one to pick out the sleek, azure, spaghetti strap dress she was wearing, as well as digging out her black knee highs and telling her to get ready for a dinner with Vash the Stampede. But the question was, WHY had he done it?  
  
Then again, getting out of the house and being surrounded only by happy people DID feel good. She sighed in contentment. Vash was actually giving off an aura that was something other than self-pity and anger.  
  
They stopped at a local bar, not the kind of place Oriole would've chosen, but had fun anyway. She even managed to laugh and tell jokes, to go along with his humorous tales of the past and to pour him a refill for his drink whenever he emptied it.  
  
"YES!" cried Vash at one point in the night, throwing back his head to down more of his wine. "Grayfall is a lucky man, Oriole! A lucky man indeed! You are one delightful dinner companion."  
  
She chuckled at his greatly exaggerated compliments. It seemed nothing could break him of his flirting. "Thank you."  
  
Vash looked as if he was about to continue singing her praises when something across the room caught his attention. His face sobered as he looked at it, turned back to her, and then craned his neck to get a better look at the object.  
  
"What is it?" asked Oriole, pushing a fall of silky black hair out of her eyes.  
  
"Oriole," he told her seriously, peering at her sadly, owlishly. "I'm afraid we have to have a very violent break up. You've been cheating on me."  
  
The empath was taken back. Vash's emotions weren't giving her any clues as to what the heck he was babbling about, so was he possibly drunk? He did look a little tipsy. How in the world was she going to explain to him that they had never been together and that if he was referring to Grayfall, that was in no way cheating on their nonexistent relationship.  
  
"You see," Vash continued. "There's a dazzling young woman across the room and she thinks I'm with you. Therefore, you must desert me that she may come to comfort me in my distress."  
  
Oriole slowly stood up, looked around nervously, and then set down her glass. "Should I just leave?"  
  
"If you don't mind."  
  
"Not at all." Her black heels turned on the slick, saw-dust spattered floor, clicking on the wooden boards, the sound rising even above the quiet piano music - until she heard the voice of a sobbing man screaming her name, followed by a mewling like a sick cat.  
  
"Oh, Oriole! How could you betray me like that?!" she heard Vash cry just before picking up her pace a little and bursting out the swinging doors. It was embarrassing; it was weird, it was...unbelievably hilarious. Oriole doubled over in laughter, hugging at her stomach and finding herself giggling until tears beaded the corner of her eyes. It had been nice to get out of the house, but this was all the excitement she could take. And besides, she really did miss Grayfall.  
  
Pulling the keys to the jeep out of her purse, she headed towards the jeep.  
  
Vash could walk home.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives couldn't believe it. He'd actually reverted back to writing Stormie letters on Meryl's old type writer, just like he had in the old days when they had argued and vowed not to speak. But these were different notes, not angry and short, but deep and lengthy. He poured out his heart and soul and then some, not caring for once that he must've looked like a sappy fool. He just couldn't get over the fact that he had living with Stormie for twenty years and had never admitted his love for her. If he had, maybe all this wouldn't have happened...  
  
He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, exhausted.  
  
Outside, it had begun to rain - a rare occurrence. The water pelted on his window pane and made everything look distorted, like he was in the middle of some sort of aquarium or water world, like a fish should swim by any minute. There was the occasional flash of lightening proceeded by a roll of thunder, but it was very far away and hardly bothered him.  
  
Jerking his letter out of the clutches of the type writer, he climbed into his bed and curled his body into a protective ball, hugging himself tight and wishing for perhaps the first time in his life that the bed didn't seem so big, that he had someone to share with, someone to hold so that he knew they were safe and he was safe - but for tonight he was alone, cold and distant from everyone.  
  
~*~I didn't want to write these letters. They were gnawing away at me until I made them a reality. I just hope some day maybe you can read them too.~*~  
  
~~~~~  
  
The shadows clung to everything in the room, eerily darkening the bruises and cuts on her bare legs stretched out before her, sensitive to the light touch she trailed over them, testing to see if it pained her so much after another day. She hadn't felt so sore and so stiff, like every muscle in her body ached and every joint had froze, in quite a while. Stormie cursed the plant workers, and at the same time, pitied them. The looks on their faces when she had destroyed them had been haunting.  
  
But what had become of Desma and Desiree?  
  
She bit her lip, already a little swollen, and then drew her knees to her chest in a painful motion. For bed that night she had changed out of her bathrobe and into a pair of boxer shorts and a loose T-shirt she had found in the dresser. While sifting through the clothes, she'd also found letters, apparently written to Billy from Naoshi. Each was short and to the point.  
  
Billy,  
  
I didn't mean for this to happen. When I saw you sitting there at the coffee shop, you looked as alone as I felt. Some things had happened the night before and I needed a distraction. Why did you insist to stay the night? I asked you several times to go home, but you took things too far and I suppose it's both our faults now. You don't seem to care or understand - I don't love you like you want to be. You need to return to your parents. However, if you choose to stay here, I will support you and the baby and play my part as the father.  
  
Stormie had grunted after reading that one. Simply grunted. She had been disgusted with Billy more than Naoshi, remembering what a brat the girl had been back then and thinking that she was some sort of desperate child to insist on staying with the plant assassin.  
  
Yes, that was it, a very desperate child.  
  
Lightning lit the room a few seconds and then receded quickly. Thunder rumbled through the emptiness, rattling some bottles of perfume on the vanity.  
  
A knock on the door cut through her weary nerves like a knife and she threw herself back onto the bed with a groan, not even bothering to reply. Naoshi always came in regardless of what she said to him. This time was no exception.  
  
"What do you want? It's midnight," she growled, eyeing her captor edgily.  
  
He sat down beside her, having learned quickly to ignore how she scooted away and regarded him suspiciously. "Can I tell you something?" he sighed tiredly, obviously sick of her being so afraid of him. Well, she thought, what kind of idiot are you? Of course I resent the man who did all this to me and my kind!  
  
Somehow, the word that left her mouth was, "Sure."  
  
"I don't..." He crossed his legs on the bed, laying his hands in his lap and staring down at them. "I'm giving up killing plants."  
  
"Challenge lose it's thrill?" she snarled.  
  
"No."  
  
"Getting too hard then?"  
  
"No..."  
  
"Then what the heck are you doing this for?!"  
  
"You."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Stormie? Did you...understand? I want to stop killing the plants - but only for you."  
  
A whisper breathed past her lips before her stalled mind even realized it. "What...?"  
  
Suddenly, words were pouring out of Naoshi's mouth, tears were falling like the rain from his eyes, and his hands were gripping her shoulders. "I want you to love me!" he cried. "I know you hate me because of what I did to you, but I'd never felt something like that for a plant before and I didn't know what it was back then but I do now. I kept telling Billy I could never love her and she kept asking if there was someone else - I said there wasn't but I knew that there was, and it was you Stormie. It was you!" He paused to catch his breath, gasping now in his desperation. "I loathed your race because of what they did to me; my mother told me they deserved to die and I believed her. If I had known you as the person, not as the plant, I never would've done those things. Please, Stormie, I just... All I've ever needed is someone like you! Say something... Just say anything..."  
  
Stormie's face had paled visibly in the moonlight. Her blue eyes were wide in amazement as one of her hands reached out and a trembling finger pointed in his direction. "What," she murmured, "makes you think...I could ever love a killer...?"  
  
Lightning flashed, illuminating the tears that sparkled on his cheeks. His hands gripped her shoulders tighter, and he hoarsely whispered, "Because you have before..."  
  
"No. No. What are you talking about?"  
  
"Knives," he murmured, sounding as if it was the first time this idea had occurred to him. Softly, he added, "Knives and his genocide."  
  
Trembling, she tried to brush his hands away, failing. "I talk in my sleep, right?" she choked out, realizing she must've said more than she had ever imagined when under the influence of her fever.  
  
His eyes had hardened to a more serious and less vulnerable degree. "Knives changed, and so can I. You want someone like him, don't you? I can be like him - I can be however you want! How could you give him a chance but not me? We've done about the same amount of damage!"  
  
Stormie realized she had begun to cry too, warm, salty trickles moving over her dry lips. She sniffled, parting them, and then choked out, "I really hate you..."  
  
His face fell.  
  
"I really hate you!" she screamed, and dove into his chest, pounding on it with her bruised fists, sobbing into his shirt and feeling his arms encircle her gently, allowing her to beat on him all she wanted as she vented her anger. "Look at what you've done to me!" she sobbed. "If it weren't for you, none of this would've happened! I'd still be back home with Vash and Knives and we'd be happy! We'd all be happy if you hadn't done this to me! It's your fault, Naoshi, all your fault! We could've been happy...we could've...been...happy..."  
  
He bowed his head, face pressing to her blonde hair as he hugged her shivering form close. "Don't cry," he urged. "You can still be happy. Let me make you happy."  
  
"No!" she sobbed, breath catching in her throat. "You can't! I won't allow it!" Her forehead digging into his collar bone, she let out a horrible moan, "Oh, what would my friends think?! What would Faith think...? That's why I hate you so much! You make everything so hard, and you set up barriers that separate me from normal relationships! But most of all, I hate you because..." She sighed, melting slowly against him in defeat. "Because...it's so hard...tell you all this now..."  
  
Naoshi ran long, slender fingers through her blonde tresses, sighing deeply. "Shh," he hushed, and the thunder rolled throughout the room, silencing the both of them for a while. Stormie ducked down out of his embrace and curled up on her side on the bed, feeling a hand being laid comfortingly to her shoulder. He had stretched out alongside her, obviously wanting to say something but not knowing if it was a bad time.  
  
She closed her eyes tightly, not knowing what she wanted. ~*~Knives...if only he wasn't so much like you...~*~ A wry smile curled her lips. ~*~I always am suckered into falling for someone like you. But I can never have the real thing, can I?~*~  
  
She shuddered, letting out a harsh breath as an image of Knives drifted through her mind. It faded as her thoughts turned to Naoshi, who was so much more attainable. And, hadn't she told Knives she wished she could be loved by someone LIKE him? Well, Naoshi's point was valid - he was a lot like Knives in his actions, but personality? He did give her the feeling that he might closely resemble the plant... Funny to think this was the only man she'd ever been intimate with - the one she hated to extremes that defied nature, yet at the same was contemplating whether or not she could love him as well. Strange to consider how she felt so comfortable with being so close to him all the sudden, this burning that was in the aftermath of his touch, the way something tightened in her stomach when she listened to his breathing in the darkness.  
  
"What do you feel?" he asked quietly, and she rolled onto her side to face him, leaning into his chest, eyelids drooping low over blue orbs.  
  
"Tired," was her barely audible reply, and he knew the conversation had ended.  
  
~*~Guess I'm the desperate child now... Knives, he makes me miss you like crazy.~*~  
  
~~~~~  
  
The door to Knives' room creaked open and he knew the little girl was stepping inside, but he ignored it, not wanting to open himself to the world. His eyes scrunched closed even tighter than before and he tucked his head almost to his knees, grimacing.  
  
"Knives?" whispered Faith, putting first one knee on the bed and then the other, crawling all fours towards his back, her hand gently laying on his shoulder. "Knives? I'm scared of the storm. Xavier already got in bed with Vash, so can I sleep with you?"  
  
"Hn," he grunted, and felt her settle down against his back.  
  
"Mom really likes you, ya' know," she yawned. "So, I guess that's why I like you so much." When he didn't respond, she quietly continued, "Mom has been really lonely for a while. I can tell. She tries to keep to herself for my sake, but she did see a few guys... None of them were very nice to her, and one did exactly what Mitayo did. That's why I was so disappointed. I thought he'd be a lot better, but you know what, Knives? I think mom is happiest when she's with you, so now that you're here...maybe something will change."  
  
A slow smile curved his mouth and he rolled over to lie on his back, next to her, one hand on his stomach and the other tucked behind his head. The child rested much in the same fashion beside him, her eyes closed in contentment. The way she mimicked his position made some sort of joy bubble within him, just like Stormie could. But then again, this was Stormie's child.  
  
And someday, Knives thought, she'll be my daughter too.  
  
~~~~~  
  
I hope this chapter didn't disappoint anyone! *chews on sleeve nervously* I wasn't sure posting this was right, just because the twist may have thrown a few people off... Hey! Naoshi is weird and I know it! I made him that way! lol So, just a note to all you people reading, I KNOW he's not normal. And I like him that way.  
  
Review! It's greatly appreciated. 


	21. Stormie's decision

Thanks for the reviews! Too tired right now to comment on them... Next time though, I will thank each and everyone of you personally, I promise!  
  
Also, I didn't read through this too well. Sorry if there are errors.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie woke up snuggled down deep into the covers and curled into herself, although Naoshi had obviously tried to hold on to her with a gentle embrace, his arms draped around gently over her back, body bent around her. Tears had dried on her cheeks, and she felt a sore, drained mess, wincing as her bruises and tense muscles screamed in protest.  
  
"Hn, up?" a groggy voice, rising from Naoshi's general direction, questioned her.  
  
She rubbed at her face, grumbling out a reply that even she didn't understand. With her back to him, she flung her legs over the side of the back and let her feet thud on the floor, wincing as jolts of pain followed the impact. Then, as she hunched over, she felt the bed shift and knew he was moving about to.  
  
Strong hands descended lightly on her shoulders, gripping and rubbing them, almost comfortingly, lovingly. "Are you ok?" he murmured.  
  
"I don't think so," she sighed. Why did his massaging her upper arms make her feel so limp? Probably because no one else had ever done this for her before. In fact, no one had ever said they loved her, or that they'd give something up and change for her. No one was ever there...  
  
She winced as the faces of past boyfriends slid across her mental eye. She'd been so desperate after Faith was born, searching doggedly for a father for her little girl. At first she had thought she could not raise a child on her own, so a husband was the way to go. Shakily, a hand raised to touch her cheek as she remembered the boyfriend that had beat her more than a few times. She'd had to actually move away to escape that one.  
  
She'd hated herself for being so stupid after that. She still did.  
  
She stood up and turned to face Naoshi, who soon followed suit and rose also. He towered above her, making her feel a bit helpless. He was perhaps a smidgen taller than Knives. "Breakfast?" she yawned, covering her mouth with a hand. It was funny, trying to pretend she wasn't sick to her stomach.  
  
"Kitchen," he replied, motioning for her to follow. "What would you like?"  
  
"French toast." The demand was quite indignant, as if she was daring him to tell her no.  
  
His reply was eager. "Alright. I'll make it for you then." He seemed to be trying to treat her extra nice, like he was on best behavior or something. Every time their eyes met a nervous smile bloomed on his face and he trembled visibly. Surprised, Stormie touched his shoulder, felt him flinch away.  
  
"Hey," she said quietly, "you've completely changed. It's too weird for words."  
  
"I told you I would," he snorted, and then moved away. "Oh, wait. Before breakfast, I want you to do me a favor." When she didn't answer, he said hurriedly, "Don't worry - it's an easy one. You see, the plant assassin vowed to not cut his hair until every last plant was dead. Now that he's the one who's gone away, I want you to help me hack it all off."  
  
Stormie tried not to laugh. She was afraid to comment for fear of saying something about how utterly hilarious that seemed to her, so she said nothing. Just smiled and accepted the scissors and took him outside. As he knelt in the sand, she stood behind him, fingering his long white hair and thinking to herself, 'I could kill him now. Drive the scissors into his neck and watch him bleed to death. It'd be easy.' But she didn't hurt him, merely began to snip here and there until she found herself trying to fashion his hair into the cut that Knives always wore. It didn't really shock her, but she found herself turning over a new idea. 'I want Naoshi to be like Knives, because that is who I can never have, but have always wanted... They really are similar.'  
  
And they were.  
  
Naoshi was prone to a quick temper and had such a strong, obsessive love for his family, just as Knives did, and both had hard times admitting their feelings as well as controlling them. However, those were just the darker points, and just likes Knives, Naoshi had things about him that made him appealing in many ways. He was generous and gentle and very passionate. When he gave someone his trust, he gave it all, and if he felt something to be his responsibility, he took care of it. Just like Knives.  
  
But it was wrong to want that, and she couldn't let herself fall into that trap. It was easy to be selfish and dumb, and to love Naoshi simply because he loved her and faintly resembled another man she was always pining over. It was hard to actually tell herself she was living in a fantasy and best be waking, as well as to come to the conclusion that she had wasted so much time on men. She didn't need one. She'd done so well without one all these years, and now, she was going to accept it and embrace it and be happy.  
  
She COULD be strong, and that is what she now wanted.  
  
Stormie moved around to kneel in front of Naoshi, who had remained silent. They sat there, face to face, although he was afraid to so much as twitch as she continued to snip at his bangs. "Do you have any gel?" she finally asked.  
  
Something uncomfortable arose in his eyes, and he squirmed a little. "Billy left some."  
  
Ah, Billy. Stormie felt a twinge of embarrassment for simply thinking of the girl. She'd considered the woman an idiot for falling for the plant assassin. Could she really put herself in the same category?  
  
"We'll go get it," she said softly, brushing the stray strands of hair from his shoulders. His long, thick tresses now lay pale and coiled in the sand, while she ran her fingers testingly through his new hairdo, thinking the scruffy, shortness of it all, the way it ran through her fingers much easier than before, sticking up here and there, made him look a lot younger, if not cuter.  
  
Naoshi watched in the mirror as she squirted a small amount of the cool, clear gel into her palm and then rubbed it onto his head, raking her hand through to get the short spikes to stand. "Hmm," he said dully, eyes flicking over in her direction. "Thanks. Looks nice."  
  
She shrugged and turned to walk away, but his voice stopped her.  
  
"You know," he said, closing the medicine cabinet after depositing the tube of hair product inside, "I don't mind too much if you make me into a replacement for him."  
  
He had noticed. She knew at that moment that she really should tell him that she could never replace HIM and that she had no intention of ever even trying, so his chances with her were basically nonexistent. But how would he react? That's what she feared most. What if he tried to take her by force again? "For Knives, you mean?" she asked weakly, trying to sound casual even as waves of guilt washed over her.  
  
"Yes." He smiled slightly. "Knives."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Billy had dropped by for a visit with her mother and son, coming once again to thank Grayfall and Oriole and Bailey for saving her. She was surprised at the tension in the household, at the way no one seemed to be speaking to each other. While Meryl went outside to sit on the porch swing with Vash, she timidly sought out the petite, blonde woman and drew her aside. "Bailey," she asked quietly, "is everything alright?"  
  
Immediately, the girl burst into tears, covering her face with her hands as giant sobs racked her small body. "It's all my fault," she whispered shakily. "Everybody hates me and it's all my fault..."  
  
Billy comfortingly touched her friend's shoulder. "What happened here?"  
  
Through all her tears, Bailey managed to relate the story, pain raw in her voice. "Mitayo was...an old friend of mine...and we sorta kissed...and Stormie, his girlfriend, got very upset... She ran away...and we can't find her...and everyone is so upset! Knives hates me! Her child hates me! Even...even my son hates me!"  
  
"Hold up, you have a son?"  
  
"Eleven - I mean, Xavier - is my son...with Mitayo... He didn't think I was coming back... No one did." Bailey looked at her from watery, gray eyes. "I feel like such an intruder in this house... Everyone hates me. Even Mitayo barely speaks to me..."  
  
Billy bit her lip. "Would you like to come home with me? I mean, we have room, and mom wouldn't mind..."  
  
A powder blue sleeve wiped slowly across her eyes as Bailey considered the offer. "I don't know," she finally sighed. "That might be for best... But at the same time, can I really leave Mitayo and Xavier?"  
  
Billy shrugged. "I guess they could come too..." Her face brightened unexpectedly. "I got an offer on a big apartment out in town, but I was scared to stay there alone with Vincent and the new baby on the way, so I turned it down! If you and Mitayo and Xavier move in, I would feel more comfortable and even if it would be a little cramped, it could work!"  
  
Bailey fell silent, and as if on cue, Mitayo appeared by her side from around the corner, standing grim and silent with his hand on her shoulder. "What's going on?" he asked, an almost suspicious eye landing on Billy.  
  
"Billy was offering us a place to stay," Bailey explained quietly, patiently. "Would you want to move out of here?"  
  
His hand tightened noticeably on her arm, indenting the cloth of her shirt. "We don't have any money."  
  
"Are you willing to get a job?"  
  
"Yes," he said quietly. "But what am I qualified for? I've spent my whole life in a plant."  
  
"You could work for my dad's company. Um, it's nothing glamorous." She shrugged. "But we need a gardener and a janitor. You're a plant - you make things grow, right?"  
  
"Never tried." Seeing her surprised look, he hurriedly continued, "But I'll give it a shot!"  
  
Bailey gave a fickle little smile as he released her from his tight grasp, carefully seeking out his hand and clasping it in her own two. "So, we're moving then? You and me and Xavier? We can...be a family?"  
  
"No!"  
  
Mitayo's eyes widened at the rebellious voice, his head slowly turning to look at his son, who stood just behind him, glaring at all present. The boy's long hair had been tied back in a straight fall at his neck, and he was wearing the black T-shirt and baggy khakis that Stormie had bought him on a trip to town. Everything about him spoke of defiance, and although Mitayo tried to tell himself that Faith was most likely brain washing him, he knew deep down in his heart that the boy felt more allegiance to Stormie then he did to his own two parents.  
  
Hn. Some parent he had been!  
  
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" he cried. "I wanna stay here! With Faith and Vash! You can't make me leave - you just can't make me!"  
  
Bailey reached out a hand as if to touch him, and the boy shied away, turning and fleeing back into Faith's room, the door slamming behind him. Instantly, tears were developing in the girl's eyes and she turned back to bury her head in Mitayo's chest, wanting to cry but now having the energy anymore. She just stood there, leaning into him, breathing quietly and softly into the stifling heat of his shirt. Mitayo was saying something about forcing him to come with them, but she only shook her head, heaving a sigh. "No, let him be," she murmured.  
  
"But, Bailey, we just can't -"  
  
"Mitayo, let it go... We've done enough damage already."  
  
Billy, at that time, felt like an intruder on the discussion and decided to seek out her mother and son. She found both outside with Vash, Vincent playing in the sand while the two adults peacefully talked. Vash was sitting on the railing, and Meryl had stretched out in the hammock. Billy, wanting to join, sat down on the porch swing and quietly interrupted with a question. "Where did Stormie go to?"  
  
Vash turned to look at her, green eyes laced with worry. His hand raked through blonde hair nervously, and a fretful expression fought it's way to surface on his face. "We don't know," he answered in a strained voice. "Knives and Grayfall have looked everywhere and Oriole has been all over town asking if anyone has seen her."  
  
"How did it happen?"  
  
"She went to go visit Desma, her friend that lives about half an hour from here. She took Mitayo and Bailey with her and let them wait in the car while she went into the underbrush to get to his house. When she didn't come back, they went looking for her, and found the house in complete disarray with bodies strewn everywhere. They must've attacked Stormie, and from what we can guess, when she went back to the jeep, she saw something she shouldn't have..."  
  
"Mitayo and Bailey kissing."  
  
Vash bit his lower lip, glancing away. "Yes. They found some blood in the sand heading towards here, and knowing that girl, she was outraged and decided to walk home." The blonde man heaved himself off the railing and scratched the back of his head, looking first at Meryl and then Billy in uncertainty. "Something must've happened to her on the way, because she never made it back."  
  
Meryl looked taken back. "Do you think someone kidnapped her?" she asked with a hint of concern.  
  
Vash's broad shoulders helplessly rose in a shrug. "That's what seems to be the most obvious, but who would do it?"  
  
The past insurance girl rocked the hammock back as she leaned forward, slowly standing up. Vash didn't understand the worry on her face until he noticed that her gaze rested on Billy, who had cast her eyes down. The mother quickly hurried to her daughter's side and put her arm around her as she started trembling, one of her delicate hands resting on the gauze taped to the side of her forehead.  
  
"Billy?" Vash was afraid to move. "What's wrong? Does your wound hurt?"  
  
A slight shake of head confirmed he was wrong. "No," she whispered. "It's just...I didn't think he'd do something like this."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Naoshi."  
  
The name froze Vash in horror. He opened his mouth to question her, but only a harsh breath escaped him.  
  
Billy looked up with a pained expression. "Get Grayfall and Knives out here - I don't want to repeat this story again. And once they hear it, I have the feeling they'll want to leave right away."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie paused in the doorway of the kitchen, staring out into the living room and at the form of Naoshi sitting on the couch in the dark. He had curled himself up there, his knees hugged to his chest with chin resting gently there. He looked completely desolate.  
  
She picked up her glass of water and sandwich and headed out to join him, not even bothering to flick on the light switch. Situated on the chair opposite him, her plate of food in her lap and glass on the arm of the furniture, she sat in the dark, staring at the man whose relationship with her was not quite clear. She didn't love him. She was beginning to doubt she'd ever get over Knives, but just because she didn't feel so strongly towards him didn't mean she wasn't a little attracted... He was tender and giving and very devoted, it seemed.  
  
She sighed.  
  
WHAT THE HECK?! Had the haircut totally brainwashed her?! This was the man who had beat up poor Xavier! There was NO excuse for that! Nevertheless, playing nice was probably going to be her best bet for getting home. Yes, home. That was her goal. She had to get home.  
  
"So, why such a glum look?" she asked him, and he cast weighted eyes in her direction. His eerie silence startled her. "What's wrong?"  
  
"It's nothing," was his almost inaudible reply, voice thick. Slowly, he uncurled himself and stretched out on the couch, eyes half shut in what seemed to be depression. He had dressed in his black sweatpants and a T- shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Long, dark streaks, scars it seemed, peeked out from the cloth and ran over his shoulders, and for the first time, Stormie realized that more damage had been laid upon the plant assassin than she had ever imagined.  
  
But, she reasoned, that's what you get for killing people.  
  
"Are you coming down with something?" she asked curiously.  
  
"My head feels hot. Maybe I'm getting what you had."  
  
"You should go to bed then."  
  
Naoshi glanced over at her and smiled slightly, and she didn't know quite what to make of the gesture. He was very obviously ill, a shiver coursing down his body every now and then. "I could've killed him, you know," he commented, coughing soon after.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Knives. I fought him once and he lost miserably. I could've killed him."  
  
Stormie gripped her glass of water tightly, bringing it to her lips but not drinking. "Why didn't you then?"  
  
"Because he was there to defend you, and, and," he muttered, hugging his arms tight to his chest and closing his eyes, "I spared him because I knew you cared about him."  
  
Stormie said nothing.  
  
Naoshi sighed shakily, mumbling, "I watched you real close when you were raising Faith... Always from afar..." A weak smile curled his lips. "Heck, I watched you even before that. When you were living with my sister, I'd sit in the tree outside your window and watch you write letters to someone and then just crumple them up and throw them away. I watched you when you sat in front of the TV with a bowl of ice cream and cursed at me under your breath. I watched and watched with such a...a fascination as your stomach got bigger and the unborn baby grew.... And still you talked every day to Oriole, telling her of your avid dislike of me."  
  
She chewed a bite of her sandwich slowly, feeling sick to her stomach all the sudden. "Being pregnant wasn't very much fun," she croaked, desperately clearing her throat afterwards. "Especially when you had no one to support you."  
  
"Hmm." He rolled onto his back on the couch, sucking in a deep, pained breath. "I didn't know how to feel about your hating me. For a while it was amusing, and then it just got...confusing." He fell silent.  
  
"Naoshi?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
She put down her food and walked over to where he lay, his face reposed as if in sleep. Gently, her palm pressed to his forehead and she felt the scorching heat of a fever radiating from his skin. "Ah," she muttered, grabbing his arm and roughly heaving him up. "Let's get you to bed then, Naoshi."  
  
He grunted and dizzily took a step forward, only being saved from falling by leaning on her. He obediently let her lead him to his bedroom, and he lay down when she told him to. Almost immediately the man was asleep, but before he drifted off, he asked one question. "Could you ever love me instead of him...? In place of him...?"  
  
Stormie allowed him to weakly catch her hand, to press the back of it to his warm cheek. And then, carefully, she answered, "I'm sorry, Naoshi... I don't think I can." 


	22. Death

Virgil: I could never forget this story! lol  
  
Hello_lola: Wait no longer!  
  
Jeril Dragonsoul: Glad to have you back with us! Thanks SOOOOO much for reviewing each chapter separately! Yep, Stormie finally came to her senses - I think just about everyone was waiting for that. Haha.  
  
Nuclear Pudding: AHHH! Anything but the monkeys! I've updated so call them off!!!  
  
Elf-vulcan: Stormie's getting back to Knives in this chapter! ~_^  
  
Kamazova: YAY! You really do LIKE this fic! *claps hands happily* Yes, yes, we readers can call the characters stupid, but really, if I were Stormie, hey, I'd pry be looking at Naoshi and thinking, "Hmm...hey, he's got money, he's got looks, and he's totally devoted to me! Who cares if he's got some sort of twisted mind?" Haha - but I think that that'd only be a momentary lapse and I'd be able to come to my senses soon enough.  
  
Blades: I just love angst!  
  
Hopelesspunk: Trigun rocks! Thanks for the compliment and keep on reading! ^_^  
  
DuesExDream: Waaaah! I miss you! Where'd you go?! *looks around wildly for the former Rocker Baby* You didn't review and it broke my heart! *sniff sniff* Please come back...  
  
~~~~~  
  
"That sick freak!" growled Knives, raking a hand roughly through his hair. The wind was blowing grains of sand into his blue eyes and he squinted, glancing over at Grayfall to see the man was totally absorbed in driving. "Ugh, I can't believe this. Billy waits all this time to tell us about Naoshi's fatal attraction?!" Then, under his breath, he muttered, "I can't believe he's been stalking her for two years!"  
  
Grayfall sighed heavily and then shook his head. He was reluctant to respond, hesitant with the thought that any words of affirmation would fuel the fire to Knives' intense hate. Finally, he spoke up, saying, "From what Billy has suggested, his feelings are a form of twisted love. He doesn't want to hurt her. Do you think he'll let her leave willingly?"  
  
"Doesn't matter," snorted Knives. "I'm going to kill him anyway."  
  
Grayfall smirked. "We've only got a few more miles and then we're there. All ready?"  
  
Eyes narrowed to slits, Knives' recalled the embarrassment and disgust on Billy's face when she had described how Naoshi had been closely following Stormie and her life, spying on her at least once a week. "I confronted him about it a few times," she had said, her head bowed to avoid the gazes of all around. "He tried to lie - said there was no one else, but it became pretty undeniable when I found pictures of her in his wallet. It was sick, like he was obsessed or something. I never thought he actually DID anything to her though, so when I found out about Faith...I decided to leave. I suppose taking his children is the worst offense I could've committed." She had paused, touching her wound. "He could've easily killed me. He missed on purpose. He loves his family. He really does..."  
  
Knives tossed a careless glance over at the man beside him, realizing he was still awaiting an answer. "Been ready," was his gruff reply.  
  
"Good." Grayfall tossed his head back as they crested a sand dune, smiling to himself. "And I assume you are going to stop procrastinating and tell her that you love her?"  
  
Knives stiffened, sneering, "What's it to ya' if I do?"  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie had been caring for Naoshi all through the night as he battled with his sickness, and had not griped over it one bit. She actually felt bad for telling him that she didn't want to be with him, and her guilt had only intensified when he had blearily looked at her and sighed, telling her that he would take her home as soon as his stomach quit rebelling.  
  
It was morning now, and she was feeling just as tired as he looked. Having nearly carried the man out to the living room so he could sit on the couch and watch her as she prepared her breakfast and got his medicine, she found herself growing more relaxed. Going home. She was ACTUALLY going home soon. And with Naoshi's consent, no less.  
  
"I really think it was only a twenty four hour thing," he wheezed from where he sat, still looking deathly pale. He hadn't bothered to gel his hair, so it's new, short length was falling about his face sloppily, almost like Vash's did in the morning, although Vash's hair was a little longer. "I think we'll be able to make the trip to your home either tomorrow or the day after."  
  
She smiled, feeling she should show some sort of gratitude. "You know," she said quietly, "as long as you're not killing anyone or anything...you can drop by and visit me. And your daughter."  
  
"And Knives," he joked lightly, though sorrow hung in his eyes.  
  
She didn't say anything.  
  
After that, Naoshi sat on the couch for a while, nearly dozing off countless times only to snap back awake after about five seconds. Stormie watched with a faint smile, a mug of coffee cradled in her hands. The scene was pitiful almost, showing his human weakness that so many thought he did not have. Peaceful, really.  
  
A gunshot shattered the air, startling the both of them.  
  
Naoshi climbed wearily to his feet and headed for the door, Stormie at his heels. He stepped out onto the porch and looked around tiredly, eyes scanning the horizon. Sickness had made him slow and barely aware of his surroundings, and only when a bullet scraped his shoulder did he notice Knives standing in the distance.  
  
Stormie pushed past him, calling out her friend's name in urgency. "Stop!" she cried, seeing how the man was already nursing his torn arm. "Don't shoot!"  
  
Knives began to approach, slow and cautious. Grayfall was at his side, both armed with guns. Stormie tried to run out to them, but hung back reluctantly when she realized that to leave would be sentencing Naoshi to a sudden death. She couldn't repay him like that - if it weren't for him, she'd have either died in the desert or still be moaning about how she WISHED she would had died. And all for stupid Mitayo...  
  
"Stormie," called out Grayfall in surprise. The man was eyeing his old captor with a hateful expression. "Get away from him! He's very dangerous!"  
  
Stormie shook her head, yelling back, "Don't shoot him again! He's not going to do anything!"  
  
Knives shot a quick glance at his companion, both coming to the same conclusion. She'd been brainwashed. They were now almost on the porch, staring at both Stormie and Naoshi from only about three yards away. Knives wasn't sure why the female looked so annoyed at them, of all people, or why the pant assassin was sneezing uncontrollably, but he was beginning to have the feeling that this situation was going to go from bad to worse no matter how he handled it. "Stormie, come here," he said quietly.  
  
Naoshi, both hands covered in blood now, gave her a gentle shove, telling her in a tone that only she could hear, "Well, I was going to be the one to escort you back, but now that he's here..."  
  
She turned to look at him, smiling faintly, apologetically, and then stepped down into the sand and walked stiffly to where Knives stood. He was waiting for her, tense and anxious, looking as if he believed something horrible would happen before she ever reached him. And it was such a long walk all the sudden, stretched out before her as she tried to grin at him, trying to keep up that happy face that she was known for, but at the same time, tears were forming in her eyes, and she didn't care for once if he saw. Now she was upon him, suddenly feeling herself drown in sorrow as she realized that even if she loved him and had turned down Naoshi, that didn't mean he'd ever feel the same. Her face fell. She needed to get home to Faith - she needed to get away from Knives.  
  
"Stormie, you... Why'd you hafta run...? Didn't you know that - " Knives was obviously frustrated and at a loss for words, sounding aggravated and irritated at her for causing so much trouble. He raked a hand angrily through his blond hair, ice blue eyes narrowed as he took in her shivering form. And then, with an overly dramatic sigh, he stiffly held out his arms and crossed them over her back, each hand gripping her opposite shoulder as he hugged her tightly. Almost too tightly. "You had no right to worry me like that!" he said gruffly.  
  
It was the first gesture of affection that he had ever bestowed upon her.  
  
Another bullet rang through the air, this one scaring both Stormie and Knives so that they nearly jumped out of their skin. Knives immediately blamed Naoshi for the commotion, shooting blindly in the man's direction before he could think. Stormie, however, glanced furtively over at Grayfall and saw that he was the one holding the still smoking gun, his features hardened mercilessly as he watched the already fallen man jerk with the impact of another bullet.  
  
"Stop it, Knives!" she cried, placing a hand over his gun and pointing it down towards the sand, just before he fired again. "Grayfall's the one who attacked!" Looking at said man, she hissed, "He was going to leave us alone..."  
  
Apparently, that was not the plan anymore. Stormie really couldn't say she blamed Naoshi for dragging himself into the house and then, still in the doorway, painstakingly getting to his feet and yanking a rifle off the wall. Blood was blossoming on his shirt sleeve and pouring down the side of his face, which twisted into a scowl as he suddenly shot forward and off the porch, running faster than Stormie had ever seen a man travel, especially an injured one, and within moments he was upon Grayfall.  
  
Knives shoved the woman out of the way and whipped his gun violently to the side, trying to follow along with the dueling men, hoping he didn't shoot the wrong one on accident.  
  
Stormie could only stand off to the side lines and yell for the three to stop, for she had jumped in between Knives and Mitayo before and that had earned her a bruise. She couldn't even imagine what would happen if she came between Grayfall and Naoshi. Her vision was blurred by tears now, and shouting became out of the question as she started choking on sobs. She cared for Naoshi, pitied him even. It actually hurt to see Grayfall grappling with him, pinning him to the sand and fisting his hand in the short, white hair, banging Naoshi's skull against the ground.  
  
Knives was half listening to Stormie's crying while considering when was the right time to shoot. His eyes were enlarged with fear and desperation. Firing at the wrong time could kill Grayfall, and that most definitely would not be pleasant.  
  
Naoshi clawed desperately at the sand, kicking at Grayfall and writhing in his grasp. He was hurt, angry, and confused. Once he had thrown the other man off him, he shot up, grabbed at his rifle, and dashed out of arm's reach, pulling the trigger in rapid succession to take down Grayfall. However, he rose back up, appearing unhurt. His blue eye was clouded with blood; the purple had widened in shock.  
  
"Don't, Knives!" Stormie exclaimed, clinging to the blonde plant's sleeve, pain choking her voice. "Please don't kill him!"  
  
"Stay back, Stormie! It's time someone took care of him!" Knives leveled his gun, aiming at Naoshi, who's strength was suddenly fading. He had fallen to one knee and was panting heavily, clutching at his wounded arm.  
  
"He's changed!" she cried, searching his face for any compassion and finding it void of such emotion. He saved me! He won't hurt anyone anymore!"  
  
Knives snarled. "How can you say that after he's murdered so many people?!"  
  
"Because you've hurt people too!" she screamed, but her words were barely audible over the sound of the gunshot. She cringed and then fell silent, realizing that everything had suddenly stopped. Grayfall was leaning against the jeep, wearing a strained expression, and Knives looked as horrified as she felt. He had heard her.  
  
Naoshi was sprawled in the sand, motionless.  
  
Stormie didn't know what to do. She just stood there, gripping Knives' sleeve with her mouth agape. Naoshi... Angrily, she shoved the man away, a groan of sorrow escaping her as she pierced him with a look that said, 'why didn't you listen?' Then, turning, she ran to where Naoshi lay, stumbling twice, and dropped to her knees at his side.  
  
His eyes were still open, staring almost dreamily up at the blue, cloudless sky. Slowly, lethargically, they rolled over towards her, and he merely looked at her. Not angry, or sad, or happy, or anything... Then he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks and seemed truly touched, his body quivering as he forced himself to rise into a sitting position, leaning back on his hands. "I was too sick to really defend myself," he murmured, and winced as he put too much pressure on his injuries, being forced to move his hands and consequently sway backwards.  
  
She caught him, one arm looping around his back and the other guiding him towards her in a semi-hug as he sagged tiredly in her embrace. "I'm sorry I couldn't stop them," she apologized quietly, and he leaned his cheek to her shoulder, tipping up his chin and squinting at her through hazy eyes.  
  
"S'ok," he mumbled, and he reached out a trembling hand to lace his fingers with hers.  
  
Knives' eyes nearly popped out of his head at that. The gun fell from his nerveless hand and clattered by his feet onto the ground. Was he really seeing this? Stormie kneeling in the blood-stained sand with the plant assassin practically in her lap, his back in the crook of her arm as he leaned his shoulder to her chest, his head cocked to the side in something akin to wonderment. They were...holding hands - fingers interlocked and palms pressed together somewhere between her chin and his chest, tears in both their eyes as if they truly regretted the outcome. Knives shook his head in shock, trying to clear his thoughts, and looked to Grayfall.  
  
The man was awkwardly leaning against the jeep, his hand slipped inside his coat and pressing to his side. Looking pained and upset, he merely watched.  
  
As for Stormie, she felt like she had been sucked into her own little world. Somehow, she knew exactly how Naoshi felt and what he was thinking, even though he said nothing. He was sorry he had ever traveled the path of a killer. He was sorry his love for her had been tainted by his horrid actions and that he did not deserve any affection from anyone anymore. He was so, so sorry he would never have her, and that his past had complicated manners to the point where he was dying here, seemingly without any friends or pity save for the woman holding him.  
  
Finally, he did speak. It took a while, and his words were so soft, they were almost lost in the wind, but he got his point across nonetheless. "Will you tell Faith," he asked with a fickle smile, "that I really did love her?"  
  
"Yeah," Stormie said, never one to deny a dying man his last request. "I'll be sure to tell her."  
  
His grin faded into a frown and he sighed harshly, his head rolling back against her shoulder, breath hot and ragged against her neck and eyes closed to mere slits. "Yeah, I thought I was gonna get all lonely after you left," he murmured, squeezing her hand. "Guess I don't hafta worry about that now."  
  
"Naoshi..."  
  
He cleared his throat. "Will ya' please tell Billy that I didn't mean to hurt her? She knew...she knew I always loved you... She stayed though. And I was ok with that because of Vincent...but I should've...I should've made her leave because...now I realize all I really did was...use her... Stormie, I have too many regrets..."  
  
"Shh, let's not think of them...now..." She tried to smile reassuringly, but she was more scared than he was. Watching the life dim in his barely opened eyes as he gazed up at her adoringly was more terrifying than anything that had happened to her in the past few years, and she couldn't explain why. She sniffled and then encouraged, "You need to concentrate on happy things now." Seeing that she had his full and undivided attention, and that he seemed to be hanging on her every word with an expression of hope, she joked, "Think about how great that hair cut I gave you looks!"  
  
His fingers slipped away from hers and their grasp on one another was broken. He allowed his own hand to drift down slowly to lay over his heart and he smiled brilliantly at her, saying with a faint chuckle, "You know, Stormie...you have a way of telling me...exactly...what I need to hear..." He was still smiling. How was he still smiling? His wounds were taking their toll and his scruffy, white hair felt soft and ticklish against her skin as he shook his head ever so slightly with a deep, exhaling breath. "You know, I really do love you..."  
  
Suddenly, Naoshi felt a lot heavier in her arms, a dead weight that she couldn't support much longer. There was blood smeared all over the both of them, and even as his eyes shut completely, she could see that there was no more life there. He had died - he had died in her arms. "Naoshi?" she whispered, just to be sure he wouldn't respond. How awful would it be if she left him for dead in the dessert only for him to wake up alone and wounded later on?! Suddenly, she was paranoid, scared for reasons she couldn't even explain. She hugged his beaten body close and sobbed into him until she felt gentle hands on her shoulders and realized Knives was trying to tug her up and to her feet. She went along with him, tenderly laying down the past assassin and shakily standing, hugging the blonde plant so tight he could scarcely breathe.  
  
"Come on, come on," he tried to comfort her, uncomfortably attempting to hug her although he didn't do well with sobbing, emotional women. He resisted pulling away and allowed her to bury her face into his chest. "Don't tell me you're crying because he said he loved you!"  
  
She leaned into him, drained of all energy suddenly. "Oh, Knives, you just don't get it," she mumbled, hooking her chin over his shoulder. Her arms wrapped securely around his body, enjoying being so close to him and aching with the knowledge that it probably wouldn't last long. "Don't go around making stupid assumptions. I'm crying because he died, and that makes me sad..." She sighed, shaking her head. "And besides, so what if I care that he told me he loved me? What's wrong with that?"  
  
"Well, the fact that you're all hung up over it is enough to bother me." Unconsciously, he was nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, his voice losing edge and growing soft. "Why are you crying, Stormie? Just forget those things he said to you..."  
  
She chuckled softly, so quietly it was nearly silent. Her arms tightened on him and then released suddenly as she stepped back, grinning unexpectedly even as tears sparkled on her cheeks. "Knives, I don't want to forget," she sniffled, still smiling. "I don't want to forget anything about my life, or about Naoshi."  
  
He looked a bit flustered, frowning in disapproval at her choice. "But why? Is it important to you that he said he loved you?"  
  
"Only as important as the memory," she replied, tapping him on the tip of his nose with a playful pointer finger. "All my memories are important to me. That's why I'm not going to forget."  
  
He wrinkled his nose in irritation. "So, the memory of him saying he loved you is important? What sort of a psychopath are you becoming, Stormie?!"  
  
"Come on, Knives, I thought you were brighter than that." Another tear coursed down her cheek, but her lips were set in what seemed to be a permanent smile, though it conveyed only forced happiness that made her look all the more sad. "It's not that he SAID he loved me... It's that he was the first."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Alright, I just want to make something clear so no one misunderstands. Stormie is merely stating at the end that the only reason she wants to remember Naoshi saying he loved her is because it was the first time a man ever said that to her. No matter who it comes from, it's always at least a little flattering that first time a boy (or girl) says he (or she) loves you, so it's not like she actually returned the feelings or anything - she was merely flattered and besides, it was the first time! You always gotta remember the first time that happens! So don't flame me about it. Haha.  
  
Review! 


	23. The Long Ride Home

Alright, guys, thanks a bunch for the reviews! I finally got a 100 reviews on this story! *dances about happily* Yay! Thanks to everyone who made it possible!  
  
DuesExDream: *clutches at heart drastically* You almost scared me there! I thought you'd died or left or SOMETHING! *holds head and squints* Why'd ya' hafta go and kick me? It wasn't too nice, ya' know! Oh well... Hehe - didn't I take my time though? I guess that's just a bad habit. Knives and Stormy do need some fluffy scenes... I've been reading romance novels (which is SOOOO unlike me), so I guess I'm in the right mood and all. Keep reviewing!  
  
Virgil: Umm...yeah, originally Stormie wasn't even going to be in the story, and it was just going to be Grayfall with Vash and Knives, but for SOME reason I brought her in with the thought that she'd probably have a very small role and that that, but she REBELLED against me and took over the whole story! I didn't mean for her to, honest! I really did design Grayfall to have the leading role, but Stormie seems to have a mind of her own... *Stormie pushed Grayfall out of the limelight and waves* Stormie! Stop that! You took most of his parts - can't you just be satisfied with that?! *hugs a forlorn Grayfall* Go and see Oriole - that's where you usually are in this story anyhow...  
  
Jeril Dragonsoul: Special in his own psychotic way - wow! That defines Naoshi perfectly! I think my own love for bad guys stemmed from my obsession with Harry from Outlaw Star. Yes, I'll admit it, I loved that unstable bio-android! His teal hair and pretty violet eyes and pretty (English) voice that always sounded so vulnerable really made me hate Melfina for rejecting him. Then, if I recall correctly, I fell in love with Aoshi from Kenshin (I guess he can be called a bad guy...) and then Legato, and then Schuldig from Weiss Kruez, and then Darcia-sama from Wolf's rain and the list goes on and on! I have a soft spot for villains - it's unhealthy really...  
  
Kamazova: *hands over a tissue* I'm glad you liked the way he met his demise. I love a dramatic death scene! I love it almost as much as I love my bad guys! Please, continue to review! Your opinion is very important to me.  
  
Elf-vulcan: Read to find out just what he says... Kuja's Swan: You can draw on the computer? O_O I really never had any idea that was possible, but I'm a little out of the loop with all that technical stuff. I'm lucky I can work my Fanfiction account. Anyhow, any way you do it is totally awesome, as long as I can somehow see it! Hehe - so, are you drawing Naoshi with short or long hair? Ooo...so excited! AHHH!! I feel like I'm forgetting someone! Gomen to you, if I am, but I am so dead tired it's not even funny!  
  
Oh, and in this chapter, Knives asks Stormie a question and she answers by singing. It's a Goo Goo Dolls' song called Slide. I'm sure most of you have heard it, and if you haven't, basically what Knives' says is a line from the song and she responds with some of the lyrics. So, it's not like I own it or anything...hehe  
  
~~~~~  
  
"He really was the first?" Knives asked, almost wistfully, carefully examining the woman before him. An almost comical expression, one of surprise and annoyance, spread over his face. "Surely he wasn't the first to actually love you though. Perhaps he was just the only one to vocalize it."  
  
Stormie grinned, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "Maybe, Knives. But what's your point?"  
  
Much to her disappointment, he only shrugged and walked away. Grayfall was already seated in the back of the jeep, and Knives quickly took his place behind the wheel. Stormie decided that left the passenger seat up for grabs and hopped in, forcing herself not to look back at Naoshi, at his fallen form. No, seeing his lifeless body would only confirm that she had not been able to save him, and for now, just trying to cope with what had happened was enough of a job for her.  
  
Had it even been right for her to feel any sympathy at all?  
  
The ride home was going to be a long one; she knew that much. But it was also unexpectedly quiet. Within moments, Grayfall, who was being uncharacteristically silent and hostile, dozed off, his hand still pressed to his side, and Stormie found herself alone with a non-conversational Knives, who was acting even more uptight than usual.  
  
"I hope you learned something from all this," he grumbled.  
  
"Of course," she answered solemnly, her face earnest enough. "From now on, I am using the buddy system and carrying pepper spray! No siree, I'm not going anywhere alone! Well, except the bathroom...but other than that, I'm always taking along a friend, just in case! After all, wouldn't want to get kidnapped again - that'd make sorta like the third time if you count my first time with Naoshi in the desert an actual kidnapping, which I guess you really can't since he didn't take me anywhere, but anyhow, three strikes and you're out! Baseball, ya' know! WAIT! If we play by lacrosse rules, it's only TWO strikes out, so I'm alright! Ok, forget that, Knives, scratch it. We don't have to count it. Nope, nuh-uh, lacrosse has saved the day."  
  
He apparently wasn't all too amused, merely rolling his eyes.  
  
"So," she sighed, more serious now, "how is everyone?"  
  
"Good. Mitayo and Bailey have moved out, but Xavier stayed. Vash is still an idiot. Oriole is as creepy as ever." Knives had never cared too much for the dainty woman - he claimed she had 'dead eyes' that did nothing but stare at him all day long. Oriole's reply was, 'to think those dead were staring at him was just plain conceited'.  
  
"Ah." She didn't really have much to say on the subject of Mitayo. She was upset with him, sure, but at the same time she didn't have the energy to hold a grudge. "And how have you been?"  
  
"Very worried, no thanks to you."  
  
Running her still bruised hand through her hair, she teasingly warned, "Careful, Knives, I may get the idea that you actually care."  
  
His cool as ice eyes flicked over in her direction as he nonchalantly muttered, "What kind of person do you think I am? I do care about you. You could've been killed, for goodness' sake."  
  
Idly, she pressed her fingertips to a purple-green bruise on her knee cap, testing to see if it was still sensitive. It was. "You know I love you, right?" she asked wistfully. The words really weren't supposed to come out that way. Actually, they weren't supposed to come out at all. She was more or less asking herself a question, but what did it matter now if he overheard? Maybe it was the best way to fix the problem.  
  
"No, I didn't know that," Knives stated calmly. "I suspected it, but it was never confirmed."  
  
She winced. "Alright. Just checking."  
  
"But I'm also assuming," he continued, his foot pressing down on the gas pedal harder so that they suddenly accelerated, "that you didn't know that I felt the same way about you."  
  
"Huh," was the most intelligent sound she could make. It was a rather offended noise, as if she couldn't believe his statement. "Well," she said "I sure wish you'd told me earlier. I could've saved myself a lot of trouble and not made such a fool of myself."  
  
"Oh, so this is all my fault?"  
  
"In a word - yes."  
  
"Well then." He leaned far back in his seat, head cocked thoughtfully to the side with one arm hooked over the open window and the other stretched out straight to control the steering wheel. "You wanna get married or run away?"  
  
"Don't you love the life you killed," she sang in reply, smiling at him mischievously and only glancing at his surprised expression from the corners of her eyes. The wind was tangling in her hair, whipping it around her face. "The priest is on the phone - your father hit the wall...your ma disowned you."  
  
He only sighed tiredly. "You have a song for everything, you know?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I was serious though. Which one do you want?"  
  
"Um, seeing as how I have a daughter at home, you can't very well leave Vash defenseless, and Grayfall is asleep in the back seat, running away is a little out of the question. Marriage!" In a very Vash-like moment, she flashed the peace sign and cried, "It's the way to go!"  
  
"Hmm." He grimaced. "Marriage."  
  
Stormie balked at his negative reply. "Hey, what's wrong with marriage? Don't you wanna commit?" Her smile was now a scowl. "I mean, is this going to be a relationship that only lasts as long as you want it to? Or am I actually going to be able to build my life on this?"  
  
He was silent.  
  
She threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. "I want a family, Knives!" she cried, falling back heavily into the seat and crossing her arms, fuming. "A normal family! And, if you don't want to be with me forever, then I don't want to be with you at all! You call this love? I think I had a better future with Naoshi back there and I - "  
  
"Enough!" he interrupted forcefully, shutting her up immediately. "Why don't you try thinking before you speak?! Stormie, I never said or even insinuated any of those things."  
  
She pressed her lips into a thin line, eyes narrowed. "Then what did you mean?"  
  
He continued to try to reason with her, his voice sharp and cutting in his annoyance. "Marriage is for humans. I'm not used to the concept of it. And, no, I'm not going to abandon you. I am merely adjusting the idea of having to make this thing legit by reciting vows to a human. It's weird for me, ok? So, quit your whining as well as this little 'I'm so lost, I'm so confused, I'm always abused' act, will ya'?"  
  
"Ah, Knives," she gushed, "you really do love me."  
  
A faint smile curled his lips, and his countenance became one of relaxation. He had been expecting a full-blown fight with the woman, but apparently she was going to let this one go. Probably because he was right. Yes, Knives decided, she had finally realized he was correct.  
  
"Grayfall is being awful quiet," she mused suddenly, leaning her elbow against the side of the jeep and letting her cheek rest against her fist. "Did the battle really wear him out that much?"  
  
Knives sobered greatly. "Is he sleeping or something?"  
  
She looked back to check. "Yep."  
  
"Oh. He must be...very relieved that that man is dead now."  
  
Stormie didn't answer, though he saw the way her expression tensed for a moment, as if her placid mask had slipped. An invisible hand pushed it back up into place and she gave him a toothy grin before yawning into her fist. "I think I'd like to sleep too," she commented.  
  
"What? Stormie?" He glanced over at her with a frown, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Why are you unbuckling your seat belt?"  
  
"Cuz I can't lie down and wear it at the same time," she answered matter-of- factly, turning her position slightly and then tilting back until she flopped carelessly down across the seat with her head landing none too lightly in his lap.  
  
"HEY!" he shouted in surprise, his face coloring. "What are you doing?!"  
  
She pouted, taunting him terribly and have quite a time with it. "I can't use you as a pillow, Mr. Forks?" she asked, her voice harmless.  
  
"No," he ground out, "because it's distracting me and I HAVE TO DRIVE!"  
  
"La la la..."  
  
"STOP SINGING AND LISTEN TO ME!"  
  
Suddenly, her tone turned bitter. "Why?" she muttered, averting her eyes over to the side, staring into the floor space of the jeep. "It's not like you really ever listen to me."  
  
Knives knew Stormie - he'd lived with her for twenty years. She was a moody woman, if nothing else. To reply that he did listen to her was suicide, and asking her what she meant would also have unpleasant consequences. So, he continued to drive in silence, thinking upon the latest instance when he could have possibly offended her by not heeding her words. It took a while, actually. He all but gave up. After all, Knives considered himself pretty faultless at this point in time, and he had not the faintest what he could've done wrong.  
  
~*~He's changed...you've hurt people too~*~  
  
He winced as her words floated back to him, cursing at the fact that perhaps she might be able to use the teensy weensy itty bitty mishap in which he had shot Naoshi against her wishes to incite another long winded argument. He decided the best way to deal with her somewhat irrational anger would be to talk to her about it, and to be blunt. "Listen, you're not upset I killed him, are you? Naoshi, I mean."  
  
Her face softened as she looked back up at him, though from her angle, his face could not tilt down far enough to return the gaze. She found herself staring up at the soft curve of his jaw, at his lean arms stretched out above her to control the wheel. "Aw, Knives," she sighed. "He really did have it coming. Don't get me wrong - I don't like it that he died. He really was going to do a complete turn around, I think, but...I can't fault you for what you did."  
  
Here she paused and he thought he caught a mumbled 'I guess' under her breath, but couldn't be sure.  
  
When she next spoke, her voice was raw with vulnerability. Umm..." She closed her eyes thoughtfully. "Naoshi was Faith's father, you know... He's the only one I've ever been with like that...and somehow, I feel like it wouldn't be so tough on Faith - on me, even - knowing how she came about, if perhaps Naoshi just could've redeemed himself..."  
  
"Hn."  
  
"What, Knives?" she said, and he could tell from her irritated tone that whatever words next left her mouth would not be pleasant for him. No, not at all. In preparation, he cringed, and it was justified when she teasingly demanded, "Are you jealous of him or something?"  
  
"What?! Why would I be jealous of that psychopath?! He's dead!"  
  
"I know," she continued in a quiet, breathy voice, her lower lip jutting out as she feigned being innocent. But as she shifted her position, he knew that her stretching out was just a movement to make him nervous. He did not LIKE to have her head on his lap at a time like this. In a place like this. Grayfall sleeping in the back seat. Regardless of his tense silence, she continued softly, "But him and me - we...you know...we had like this SPECIAL relationship going on there for a moment... You almost lost me, Knives." Her mischievous smile was back in place. "He was the first to say he loved me, after all."  
  
"Stormie, number one - I don't think that the fact you were raped was anything to joke about, and number two - yeah, it really ticks me off. I wanted to be the first to tell you that."  
  
At that somewhat crude statement, she blinked, and then, much to his embarrassment, burst into laughter, happily giggling until tears were streaming down her cheeks. But slowly, the chuckles grew fainter and began to transform into something else until she was gulping down a lump in her throat and burying her face in her hands. Without warning, she had dissolved into sobs. Right there. In his lap. No matter what turn the situation took, he couldn't get that out of his head...  
  
Luckily for him, Stormie chose that moment to put an end to her playing and sit back up, still hiding behind her hands.  
  
At Knives' questioning what was wrong with her, she could only choke out, "I'm so happy that...this is all over and that we're really going to be together... I'm nothing special - I'm not a prize or anything. But you make it sound like I'm so great... I'm not really that pretty or smart or anything... But, Knives, you make me feel like I am, and I'm happy, because now... I know this is where I'm meant to be..."  
  
~~~~~  
  
An hour passed. The scenery really never changed. Just boring, boring desert. Sand and stones and occasionally a rock formation or even another vehicle. Stormie was almost giddy with joy when they came upon a town, having been complaining for the last fifteen minutes that her butt was getting sore from all the sitting.  
  
Knives' was also offering secret prayers, doubting that he could've stayed another moment in the car with the complaining female.  
  
He pulled up to a small diner and parked just outside, nearly hitting a bulky, skittish Tomas as he clumsily fumbled to stop in time.  
  
"You're not supposed to park there, you idiot!" Stormie cried, but he paid her no heed.  
  
"Get Grayfall up," was his only reply as he stiffly unbuckled his seat belt. "Ask him if he'd rather eat or sleep, because at this point, what he chooses really doesn't matter to me. It'd actually save money if he slept through it."  
  
Stormie rolled her eyes and eased herself out of the passenger seat, grumbling. Upon opening the back door, she found herself gazing upon the unconscious man stretched out across the back of the jeep on his side, hand still snaked under his long coat to press against his stomach. His mocha colored hair was spilling over his forehead and face, golden eyes closed and mouth gaping slightly, panting. Why did he look so pale and limp? "Come on," she said gently, growing edgy with the fear that something was wrong when he didn't respond. "Hey, Grayfall, you gotta get up." Almost hesitantly she leaned over his legs and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, holding her breath as she shook him. Still, he did not rouse in the least.  
  
Knives came by to see what was taking so long, stretching his long arms above his head and yawning. "Hmm?" he questioned lazily upon seeing her shocked state, her widened eyes. "He not getting up? Let him sleep."  
  
"Knives... Something's wrong with him."  
  
"Bull. What could possibly be the matter? He would've told us if he was hurt, right?"  
  
Stormie shook her head, anxiety growing by the moment as she shook Grayfall harder, rolling him onto his back. Tenderly, she opened his coat up and slid her arms around his waist to lift his upper body slightly, trying to free the hand trapped beneath him. When she was able to lift up his wrist, she saw that his fingers and palm were sticky and stained with a dark red fluid. "Oh, great," she muttered.  
  
"How bad is he hurt?" Knives immediately wanted to know, more intrigued than worried.  
  
"I don't know. Naoshi must've actually gotten a hit on him at some point." Stormie had crawled up into the seat by this time, carefully moving over his legs and kneeling as best she could in the cramped space, though she had to nearly straddle his waist just to remain upright. With her teeth clenched, she was able to roll up his turtle neck nearly to his shoulders, exposing his chest and grimacing at the nasty tear in his flesh along the left side of his ribcage. "We need to get him to a hospital or something," she stated. "He looks like he's lost a lot of blood, and the bullet is still in there, though not too deep."  
  
Knives was staring at Grayfall in shock, unbelieving of what he was seeing. Why didn't the other man tell him that he was hurt? How could he have kept it all to himself? What an utterly stupid thing to do, to try to hide the fact you'd been shot from your own allies, as if you didn't want them to be burdened or something dumb like that. "Shoot," he grumbled, climbing back into the driver's seat and revving up the engine, angrily preparing to drive to the nearest hospital - wherever that was - as soon as Stormie got herself situated in the passenger seat. "He really is like Legato..."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Ooooh...what will happen?! DuesExDream, I PROMISE some nice fluff and cute little scenes between Stormie and Knives in the next two chapters, ok? *sighs* Whew, we're getting close to wrapping this story up, I think!  
  
Review! 


	24. Beautifully Destructive Attractions

DuesExDream: School IS evil, and if you don't stop kicking me, I will kill Grayfall! AHAHA! Ok, not really - I'd never do that to the poor guy. But yeah, Knives and Stormie were always one of those 'unspoken couples'. I'm in a relationship kind of like that - nothing's official, but somehow everyone knows that you just kind of belong to the other one. lol Grayfall - I've tortured him so. We'll have to help him find a little bit of happiness now, won't we?  
  
Jeril Dragonsoul: *gawks* You've seen Wolf's Rain too?! OMG! I LOVE THAT SHOW! Especially that one episode (it's either two or three) where Toboe killed that girl's bird and when she saw he starts to cry and it was so sad but so cute and I almost cried too because he only wanted to be hers! Dang it, if Toboe told me he wanted to be mine, I don't think I'd scream my head off and call for my dad. *starts to hyperventilate* I just love the characters, especially Hige! *drools* Isn't Kiba cute? And Tsume? He's pretty good looking too - lol. And don't get me started on Darcia-sama! Eeek! I've only seen episodes 1-18 though, and I'm so scared that Hige or Toboe or someone like that will die cuz I saw a pic of him from episode 26 and he didn't look to be in too great of shape! What's up with Darcia- sama's girlfriend? Is she dead or what? Ahh! I can't believe you've seen it! I LOVE YOU TOO! *hugs* Anyhow, thanks a lot for your review! I'm glad you like Grayfall. ^_^  
  
Elf-vulcan: Yes, Knives sure does take his time - as do I. lol You shall see what happens to Grayfall...  
  
Nuclear Pudding: Yay! The green monkeys are gone! *dances* Yeah, I almost made myself cry when Naoshi died. I had a soft spot for him, for as I have said, I love my villains. Haha. Poor, poor Grayfall. I just love him to pieces too, although I feel guilty for focusing on Stormie a lot more than I did on him. *shrugs*  
  
Sami: lol Yeah, I'm glad you've really got the feel of Stormie's personality. That's something she'd totally do. "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Knives, are we THERE yet?!" lol Stormie has some more crazy, random moments in this chapter. ^_^  
  
Zetsumei: Wow, it has been a long time. It's good to know you're still reading. Hmm... Of Diets, Night lights, and Packing Peanuts? Oh, I guess I just sort of started working on other things and lost interest. Would you like me to continue it? lol I could write another chapter if you like. ~_^ Well, keep on reviewing!  
  
The stuff in //yadda yadda yadda// is the song. It's called Velveteen. It comes off the Ghost in the Shell Stand Along Complex OST by Yokko Kanno.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Grayfall opened one golden eye at a time, listlessly staring at the wooden ceiling above him. It was very nice, very rustic, in a sense, because he could see knot holes in the darkened pine - well, he assumed it was pine. He didn't know much about trees.  
  
Slowly, he turned his gaze over to the window, where sunlight was streaming in and spilling over the also wooden floor, turning it a warm, mellow shade - like darkened honey. How peaceful... He pushed himself up and leaned back on his hands in the bed, the sheet slipping from his bare shoulders and pooling at his waist. He gazed around his little room of paradise, smiling to himself at how sunny it was, how blue the sky appeared to be outside.  
  
And in the corner, there was a comfortable old rocking chair with a quilt over the back. He turned his face to the piece of furniture and smiled at the man who occupied it, asking softly, "Why have you come here to me?"  
  
The man's lips twitched into a half smile. He was tall and broad- shouldered and lean at the waist with long elegant limbs that were tanned from hours under the desert sun. His hair, a pale shade of blue, hung shaggily about his face and flopped over one golden eye in the same manner as Grayfall's. "I think," he replied smoothly, his voice like silk, "that the question is, why have you come to me?"  
  
Grayfall didn't quite comprehend. "I wouldn't come to you."  
  
"I am your father."  
  
The son's brow furrowed. "You never wanted me," he stated softly, the happy light in his eyes slowly dying. "So why would I come to you?"  
  
"Because you need me." Legato rose from his chair and walked over to his son's bed, appearing no older then thirty or so, although his eyes were polished with a much older wisdom. He tentatively wrapped the young man in his arms, holding him close to his black-turtleneck clad chest. Almost hesitantly, he drew his fingers lightly through his son's hair, whispering, "I never meant to turn my back on you or your mother..."  
  
Grayfall felt tears welling up in his eyes. "She died when I was thirteen," he blurted out. "She died because she got too sick from working too long and not eating enough and then I had to live with Naoshi." He sighed, feeling like a little boy again as he melted into his father's embrace.  
  
"I know, Grayfall," murmured the deep, velvety voice again. Lightly, a hand pressed over his heart. "You have a wounded spirit, poor boy. But I will tell you a secret. Your mother loves you very much, as do I, and you were not ever for a moment alone."  
  
Grayfall let a gentle breath of released tension escape him as he sagged completely into his lost parent. "Why'd you go back to Knives?" he asked in what was dangerously close to a whine. "You didn't have to. How could he have made you? I can't hate him now... I know him too well - I have worked with him too closely... Should I hate him? Do you?"  
  
Legato considered all this a moment and then chuckled softly. "You should not hate Knives," he finally decided. "What's done is done. Don't let anger control your life."  
  
Here there was a bout of silence in which Grayfall parted from his father and stood up to walk to the window, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black sweatpants. He stared out into the deep, lushly green woods spread out before him, grinning to himself. He was thrilled to see such a landscape when he was used to nothing but sand and sparse desert vegetation.  
  
"You like it then?" Legato mused. "Your mother loves it."  
  
"Where is she?" Grayfall turned hopefully. "Can I see her?"  
  
Legato gently shook his head. "Come now, Grayfall. You don't have enough time here for that, and besides, she had you for thirteen years. This is the first time I have been selfish enough to spend some time with my own son - and alone of all things - and besides, you are still very weak and need taken care of."  
  
"What?" Grayfall ran a hand through his hair, laughing in his confusion. He felt so much more...free here. He was no longer quite, melancholy Grayfall. Here he was happy and not disappointed by Legato's words, though he was a little baffled. "What does all that mean?"  
  
The other man took his place beside him at the window, looking over at him with a smirk and asking in something akin to amusement, "Do you know why you are here? What do you remember last?"  
  
Grayfall thought back long and hard, concentrating with all his might. When he had first woken up, he had felt so at peace that he hadn't even questioned his whereabouts. There was something intoxicating about the sweet air all around them, and it muddled his mind. Finally, after turning his gaze to stare helplessly into his father's deep, golden eyes, he felt something click.  
  
"Naoshi?" he questioned, head cocked to the left. A worried expression passed over his face. "Naoshi shot me, right? Am I dead then?"  
  
"Of course not," reassured his father. "You're not dead. You're simply at rest." He quietly clucked his tongue in disapproval. "When Naoshi shot you, you foolishly told no one and by doing so, worsened your injury."  
  
He stared down at his feet, dragging his toes across the smooth, wooden floor. "Stormie and Knives needed to talk some," he mumbled. "He was going to tell her that he loved her, and I didn't want him to back down again. If they had to rush me to the hospital, he might have lost his nerve and never do it... I just wanted to preserve the moment."  
  
Legato laughed softly, a sound like silver bells pealing out across a frosty meadow in the dead of winter. "Knives in love," he said wistfully. "Fancy the thought."  
  
Grayfall smiled. Yes, he thought with a smirk, how odd it must seem for Legato to see his formerly heartless master risking his own skin just to recover a lost woman. "How long will I be staying here?" he asked calmly, switching the subject. He wouldn't mind if it happened to be a lengthy period, for he rather liked this place at his father's side, this peaceful shelter cut off from the rest of the world and its problems.  
  
"Not much longer," Legato answered soberly. "But do not worry. I will take good care of you in your time here."  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Woah!" Vash held up his hands in obvious shock, staring at the couple that stood in the door before him with wide, green eyes. "Let me get this straight - you two bring home a dying Grayfall, say you're going out to buy him some more bandages, and then you come back saying you got hitched on the way?!"  
  
Stormie shrugged and brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from her eyes, the golden band on her finger glinting in the dying twilight as she did so, commenting, "What's the problem, Vash? We got the bandages, and it's not like Knives wanted a lengthy ceremony."  
  
Vash pouted, his lower lip jutting out as his puppy dog eyes filled with tears. "You could've at LEAST invited me!" he whined. "I'm your brother!"  
  
"We asked you if you wanted to come with us to get the bandages," Knives pointed out flippantly.  
  
"Yes," agreed Stormie. "And your answer was, 'just bring me back some donuts'. We got you your donuts, so what are you whining about?"  
  
"I had to watch the kids!" Vash muttered under his breath. "Not like Oriole could've since she's watching Grayfall - WHO, I am sure, WOULD NOT appreciate your getting MARRIED in the middle of his LIFE AND DEATH experience!"  
  
Stormie patted the gunman on the shoulder and then shouldered past him with a bright smile, calling out, "Faith, Xavier! Come gather 'round, children! Mommy dearest has a most *special* surprise!"  
  
Vash caught the slightly confused look on Knives' face and confided quietly to his sibling, "You know you married a crazy woman... But, I'm assuming you realized beforehand what you were getting yourself into... I hope."  
  
"Mommy dearest?" Knives merely repeated with a grimace.  
  
The boy and girl eventually scampered into the hall, obviously racing from the way they slipped and slid and knocked rambunctiously into one another. Xavier reached the spot first and grinned back at the loser of the game, seeing that she stuck her tongue in distaste at him. Then she joined by his side and they both stood panting to see what new treasure Stormie had to offer.  
  
"Shield your eyes, children," the woman advised, dramatically throwing her arm across her face in an example, waggling her fingers. "Expose them to the grandeur gradually, lest you go blind and I have to buy you one of those seeing eye dogs, which wouldn't be so bad in itself, but I always have this urge to just rub my face in a dog's fur - a sort of affectionate gesture, you know - and they're fur is just so dang oily that I always get a zit! And I thought I was past that age and BAM! WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT?!" She had thrown her hand out before the kids, pointing dramatically to the plain wedding band that graced her finger.  
  
Faith obviously didn't comprehend its meaning, for she seemed a little disappointed. "Nice ring...mom," she said lamely.  
  
Xavier nodded in agreement.  
  
"Silly, silly Faith, and silly Xavier," Stormie sighed, shaking her head. "Don't you realize what this is? I, queen of this household, am proud to now present to you something that this land has lacked for many, many years."  
  
"Cable?" asked Faith hopefully, bouncing on her heels a little.  
  
"No - that'd be great, but this is almost as good." She stepped back and made a flourishing hand motion towards Knives, exclaiming, "I present to you, King Knives!"  
  
"Huuuuuuuuuh?" Both Xavier and Faith made the same noise of confusion at the same time.  
  
"They got married," translated Vash helpfully.  
  
"Oh?" Faith looked a little surprised, but not too much. "Oh! Oh... That's pretty cool, mom." She nodded to back it up. "Me and Xavier are going to get some ice cream now, ok?"  
  
"Alright then," Stormie lazily drawled. "I thought perhaps you'd be a little more happy at my bringing home your new daddy, but I guess your reaction was acceptable."  
  
"Well, it's not like I didn't see it coming."  
  
"Hmm. I must've been the only one. Away with you now! Eat your ice cream! Knives and I shall retire for the night - because I say so - and we are not to be disturbed - because I say so - and tomorrow it will be clear with a high of seventy-five and low of sixty-eight - !"  
  
"Because you say so, we know," Knives grumbled, catching her wrist and dragging her off down the hall to her bedroom, at first feeling her struggle playfully in his grasp, but then, after only a few steps, shove her shoulder into him and, laughing, begin to speed on ahead of him. Not about to be left behind, he took a few, quick strides to gain on her and the two were soon stumbling and laughing to her room, dashing through the doorway and tripping over one another's feet until their legs were so entangled they both tumbled in a heap onto her mattress. Knives ended up on the bottom, grunting as she tried to continue on wrestling, pinning his arms above his head.  
  
Easily, before she even knew what was going on, Stormie had found herself flipped over and flat on her back, Knives languidly spread out over her. "Hey, hey!" she exclaimed, pushing him hurriedly away and jumping up, running to the door. "What a view that'd be for the kids! Why didn't you close the door?" Smiling, she locked it as an after thought.  
  
He propped himself up on his elbows, grinning madly at her. "You're worried about the kids? I think they are far ahead of Vash," he chuckled. "He's the one who is so insanely pure."  
  
"I dunno," Stormie thoughtfully replied. "I think he knows a lot more than you give him credit for - in everything."  
  
"Perhaps, but let's not talk about him."  
  
Stormie crawled back into the bed beside her new husband, nuzzling her face into his chest as he brought her close to him in a moment where all the playfulness momentarily disappeared and was replaced with warm affection. She sighed almost shakily, not quite sure that she was so comfortable in a more serious situation.  
  
"This bed is pretty small," he commented quietly, a bit out of place as well. "I like it though. Cozy, huh?  
  
"Yeah," she said quietly, hoarsely.  
  
Silence lapsed between the two and he bent his head to press his lips gently to her forehead, then to her lips, savoring actually being able to be close to her after so long. She responded, even though it was feeble, and then, abruptly, he pulled away, smiling gently. "You ok?"  
  
"Umm..." She averted her gaze, and then, weakly, she murmured, "Can I put on some music?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Silence makes me edgy. Music helps me relax, and it gives me a sense of...of confidence. Besides, it'll give you time to brush your teeth and get out of those dirty traveling clothes."  
  
He nodded slowly and moved off her, sliding to the floor and then rising gracefully, watching with a keen eye as she rolled off the bed and crawled slowly to the CD collection she kept in a box on the floor by her stereo. She looked so feeble then, a little weak, a little disoriented, and of course, nervous. He could've stood there and watched her forever, the way the skin between her eyebrows tensed, the way her hands shook as she shifted through her CDs slowly, sitting cross-legged on the floor. However, when he noticed that was simply not her wish, he turned and retired to the adjacent bathroom, where he wrestled with his shirt, which was determined not to come off over his head, and then hurriedly unzipped the fly of his stiff jeans and pulled one leg out, and then, hopping on that foot, managed to free the other. Then, standing there in his black boxers and looking at himself in the mirror, he picked up the only toothbrush - Stormie's toothbrush - and eyed it critically. Would it REALLY be sanitary for him to borrow it?  
  
Then again, what could it hurt? After all, a tooth brush cleans the mouth, and since he'd just been kissing her, what would the difference be sanitary wise if he used it, along with her tooth paste and mouth wash? So, decided, he hurriedly finished preparing for bed, took a drink of water to clear away the overwhelming taste of peppermint, and walked back into Stormie's room.  
  
The woman was still sitting in the spot he had left her, but had changed, as if her clothes themselves had transformed into a pair of cream-colored silk shorts and a baggy, blue tank. Her choice of music was still in the process of being decided, so he sat on the bed and waited for her, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Why was she doing this? Why was she stalling? She'd been so happy and, well...playfully seductive earlier, so why had she all the sudden lost her nerve and pushed him away? Had he said something? Done something? His eyes narrowed as he thought back upon the most recent events.  
  
Stormie was shakily removing a CD from the case and placing it into the stereo, a terribly outdated, beat up machine that she treasured and loved nonetheless. Then, pressing the play button, she slowly stood and walked back to where he was perched on the edge of her mattress, all the while looking down, never meeting his gaze.  
  
A strange song poured over the speakers, at first only consisting of police sirens and muffled voice before being joined by a choppy beat. It had an almost...rainy feel to it. Dreary. Sad. The woman who sang was equally haunted sounding, her high, synthesized voice filling the room.  
  
He reached out and took her hands in his own, encouraging her with a smile to lie down with him. She did, hesitantly, her long, blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder in a curtain of golden silk. He gathered her like a child into his arms and pulled her close once more, space scarce in her tiny bed. Even through her night shirt he could feel her heart beating rapidly against his skin, pounding in fear, no doubt.  
  
But why was she afraid?  
  
//Seeing you in my tears  
  
In my own reflection  
  
I hear you in the wind that passes through me...//  
  
Stormie didn't move. She was too petrified with fear to do anything. Teasing Knives until he flushed with embarrassment or anger was one thing, and then playfully romping with him on the bed was another, but lying very still against him was just too much. Too awkward. Too serious.  
  
"You're still so bruised," he commented, his fingers slipping under the left strap of her night shirt to slip it down gently and touch the blooming bruise of purple and green on her bare shoulder. It caused her to wince so he lessened the pressure he had put on it and let his hand trail down the back of her shirt to feel the other swollen, cut spots along her spine. She wriggled uncomfortably.  
  
//Feel you in my hunger  
  
You're haunting my ambition  
  
Beautifully destructive attraction...//  
  
It was coming back to her slowly, that night out in the desert with Naoshi. She begged the memory to stay buried in the recesses of her mind, tried to keep it from rising up just so soon after she had held him in her arms and comforted him until he died, just when she was finally close to Knives, but it refused. Every touch was bringing back a ghost, a horrible pain that stung at her and reminded where the knife had been raked across her skin, where Naoshi had longingly placed hands on her without permission.  
  
She shuddered, trying to hide in Knives' embrace. Surely he expected more than this. She'd been making teasing little suggestions about their wedding night all day, until she knew that he thought there was going to be so much more than she suddenly wanted to do. Perhaps, if she shut her eyes and just let him do as he wanted, maybe if she just ignored it all and listened to the music and tried not to think at all, then maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok and he wouldn't ask her what was wrong.  
  
Naoshi, she lamented to herself, you really screwed my mind over, didn't you?  
  
Knives was looking at her funny, cradling the back of her head with both hands now - geesh, she'd never noticed what big hands he had before. She felt so small when he held her like that, towering over her and just reeking of strength. She wanted to roll her eyes - how could she have ever thought she was strong? Not compared to Knives, no, not at all...  
  
"Stormie," he said softly, "you're trembling."  
  
//Climbed to zero G's  
  
Now falling like a rock  
  
Drugged and digitized you in a dream//  
  
She gulped down a lump in her throat, pushed back a sob, and closed her eyes. "It's ok," she tried to tell herself more than him, but she was already starting to hyperventilate as memories washed over her. The old pain flooded back. Blast it! She'd done so good at pushing the nightmare back into a corner for such a long time that the rape had hardly affected her at all! She hadn't even been disturbed by it during her pregnancy - told herself she'd been done a horrible wrong and, well, quite frankly, no one was going to live her life for her so she should just move on. And it worked! Oh, did it ever work... She could even lie next to that man two years later and let him hold her close and then give her a back rub the next morning and contemplate loving him! But things like that just don't disappear, she supposed to herself, and her time was probably up for dismissing it.  
  
Naoshi... Why? How could someone hold that much power over her?  
  
//I find you in fears  
  
And in my fascination  
  
I taste you in safe water and it drowns me//  
  
"Hello," the nasty little memory said to her. "I'm all the pain and emotional baggage you've had in storage ever since you were raped. I've had an appointment with you for two years now. I think it's about time you attend to me."  
  
"Heck no!" she cried in reply, balking at the thought. "I like ignoring you! And this is my special time with Knives, so back off!"  
  
"Sorry, but he's pretty much calling me out, so I think I'll just let myself out of this dusty old corner. Thank you for your time."  
  
Stormie had been so caught up in her little mental banter that she had not even realized she never answered Knives. Her eyes were still closed; her shivering had increased and tears coursed down her cheeks. She felt him lean in and tenderly kiss each eyelid before wiping the salty rivers away with his thumb.  
  
"Come on now, what are you scared about?" he said with that gruff concern that she somehow always found charming. He wasn't, by nature, someone who showed his worry and sympathy very well, so when he made an effort, she found it rather comforting. "You know I'm not going to hurt you, Stormie."  
  
//Paranoid and peaceful  
  
In a sweet addiction  
  
Velvety electrical reaction//  
  
Stormie slowly cracked open one blue eye to stare at him, still trembling, and croaked, "I'm an idiot, Knives - I thought I was more prepared than this." She was starting to hyperventilate now, praying that he wouldn't grow disgusted with her and push her away, that he'd have patience with her incompetence. She couldn't lose him; it'd kill her. "Oh, I really did think I could do this!" she groaned, turning away from him, shaking her head desperately. "Please, I only need a few moments, that's all, Knives! I'll be alright, I'll be ok, I'm gonna be alright... I can do this; I can do this..." She continued to murmur under her breath, trying to reassure herself as well as him, but only succeeding in making herself more hysterical.  
  
"Stormie!" he intervened sternly, shocking her out of her frazzled state. "Don't worry about it! This is because of Naoshi, right?"  
  
"Huh? What? Oh...I guess it's a little obvious..."  
  
"Actually, Oriole explained it to me once - the only useful thing she's ever done..." He smirked. "Anyhow, she told me that since you've been pushing back your emotions for so long, that when a time like this came, they'd break loose and flood out. She said you act so happy all the time, and while most of the time you really are happy, the other times, when it has to do with something intimate like this, you're really just joking around to try to keep things light so you don't feel pressured or scared. But when it starts to get serious...you don't know what to do... The memories come back, don't they?"  
  
She nodded numbly.  
  
//Soft insanity  
  
And I can't make it stop  
  
Live hallucination within a dream//  
  
His voice was softer now. "You never let yourself really grieve for what happened to you. You only cried once or twice and then, pushed yourself so hard to just forget the details that it was like it never happened. Right?"  
  
"I wanted to be happy," she protested desperately. "I've always been happy! It's just the way I am, so I had no idea what to do when I felt so sad, Knives!"  
  
His fingers tangled briefly in her blonde hair and he idly let his other hand drift to run his fingertips briefly across her lips. "Just don't run from it, ok? You've done that your whole life - run from your problems, run from Naoshi, and you...you ran from me."  
  
"I know..."  
  
"It happened, ok? Bad things happen like that. It won't happen again. You're safe, and you're with me. It'll be different with me - trust me."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"But," he sighed, "I guess for tonight you should just sleep and try to sort out all your feelings. Besides..." His ice blue eyes darted furtively to the side and then to the door and then back to hers, glinting with some small humor. "I just know these walls are too thin..."  
  
She blushed. "Uh...they are really thin, actually. One time, I was trying to teach myself to juggle, and I-"  
  
His lips brushed over hers slowly, barely skimming her, but effectively halting the words in her throat. "No more jokes tonight, huh?" he implored. "Let's talk about what you're so scared of so we can get you over this."  
  
//A velveteen equation...//  
  
She had been tense in his arms until that time, suddenly relaxing at his words. "You're really patient with me," she said gratefully.  
  
"No, I'm very impatient - I just care about you, that's all. And tomorrow, we're going somewhere out of town. If you made me go through with marriage, I'm dragging you off for the honeymoon. My part of the deal, remember?"  
  
"Ok."  
  
//Magico, questo `e un grande amore//  
  
There was a knock on the door. Frantic, hurried.  
  
Stormie was the first to disentangle her limbs from the other body, getting up hurriedly and calling out, "What's up?" before unlocking it and swinging it open.  
  
Oriole stood there, looking a little like she had just woken up from a fitful sleep in her long-sleeved T-shirt and pajama pants, her mangled hand twitching nervously at her side. Worry hung heavy in her eyes, which were shadowed slightly by her messy, black hair that hung in impossible tangles for once. "It's Grayfall," she explained hurriedly, anxiously. "He's - he's crying! He's not even awake, or at least I don't think he is, but he's curled up under the covers and crying! I can't get him to respond - neither can Vash! His emotions are jumbled - like he's happy and sad at the same time. I can't even read him!" She laid her hand on her friend's arm, pleading, "Stormie, you're a doctor - don't you know what to do?"  
  
Stormie glanced back at Knives, who was still stretched out on the bed, looking tired and a little frustrated. Sighing in exasperation, he waved a hand of dismissal at her, telling her she should most likely go, and she turned back to Oriole, nodding. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."  
  
As his new wife rushed off to investigate, Knives realized her music was fading out, about to switch tracks. While entirely tolerable while with her, the noise wore on his nerves while she was away. He preferred silence. Rising, he walked over to the stereo, crouched down by it, and pressed the stop button. The music halted as suddenly as his night of romance had.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Review! 


	25. Always on the Run

Disclaimer: I don't own ANYTHING!! (except Stormie, Oriole, Grayfall, Faith, Xavier, Mitayo, Bailey, Desma, Desiree, and I think that's it... So, maybe I do own some things!)  
  
Nuclear Pudding: Grayfall is going a little delusional - or is he?! lol Anyhow, yes, the whole Stormie and Knives thing was semi-pointless fluff, but if other people thought it was cute, than hey, that's a good thing! Keep on reviewing!  
  
DuesExDream: Stormie goes back and forth between being goofy and sad, from being strong to being weak. What will her mood be tomorrow? Not even she knows! And Grayfall...his whole life is a drama. Haha, anyhow, thanks for the review, and the song really is cool, if you like the techno-ish flavor to it, that is. ^_^  
  
Zetsumei: Gah! Now look, I've got grass seed all over me! *brushes it off* WHY?! Sorry if the last chapter was too fluffy - and I'm working on Diets, Night Lights and Packing Peanuts, honest! It's just coming along slow since I've got like three other fics going at this time! Look at me, I multi-task! Woo hoo! ^_^  
  
Vakanathestorm: Wheeee! Almost professional? Cool! What a compliment! Yup, if you've read up till here, keep on reviewing! I'll try to read one of your stories, but I'm soooo busy - it's not even right... *grumbles*  
  
Kamazova: Just knowing you enjoyed it is nice!  
  
Raditz: Don't worry! This is almost finished! Oh, and I wouldn't mind Midvalley being resurrected... Hehe - I have a soft spot for saxaphone players.  
  
Hello_lola: Yay! Knives isn't OOC!! And here ya go, I've updated!  
  
Sami: Hehe...I like your little advertisement for Knives there. And yes, Stormie is rather nutty, isn't she? Crazy girl - she's an OVA short of a series! (that's from a Shinesman commercial I saw! lol) I'm really trying to continue Of Diets, Night lights, and Packing Peanuts, but it's hard to get back into it! Any ideas? Keep reviewing!  
  
Kuja's Swan: So, when will your dad get a scanner? Ah, cool! I personally liked the short-haired version better once the idea occurred to me - lol. Keep on reviewing!  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Why are you crying?" Legato slanted a sideways glance upon his son, a curious frown twitching at his lips.  
  
Tears were streaming down Grayfall's cheeks, staining his tan face. Weakly, one hand grasped at the curtains shading the windows, the other hanging limply at his side. "I'm not sure," he replied softly, his voice choked with emotion. "Maybe it's because I'm here with you, my father...and everything is so surreal."  
  
Legato chuckled softly, running a hand through his thick, pale blue hair and letting it freeze halfway, revealing both golden eyes in a moment of rare humor. "Yes, but you miss your real life, don't you?"  
  
"No, not yet."  
  
"You will. And you won't be sad when you leave here."  
  
"When will that be?"  
  
"Not much longer."  
  
They stood there in silence a while longer, reflecting over their short amount of time together, over the conversations and the thoughts they had shared with one another. Deep in their contemplation, it never really occurred to the other that their positions were strange, that they had been absent from one another's lives and only met in dreams. That they were father and son.  
  
"When are you to be married?" Legato interrupted the silence with a dull question, though it sounded as if it was vaguely concerned.  
  
"Oh. It was supposed to be last week, actually, but we had to push it up again because of Stormie and now that this has happened..."  
  
"When is it?"  
  
"Next month."  
  
"You'll be well enough; don't worry."  
  
"Ok."  
  
"Her name is Oriole, no?"  
  
"Oriole. Yes."  
  
"I rather like her."  
  
"Th-thank you." Grayfall turned his head to look over at the other man, smiling but still unsure of himself.  
  
Outside, the birds began to chirp, and Legato's attention became completely captivated once more by the falling leaves. He frowned. This signified all was coming to an end. A troubled feeling flitted through his mind before he shook it off and discarded his troubles, easing his tension and letting it slide off with a roll of his shoulders. He turned to Grayfall one last time and reached out a hand to touch his son's shoulder, a light, ghost of a brush, and in a voice that seemed much more frail than before, he bid the young man good-bye.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Oriole wrung her hands nervously as she ushered Stormie into the room, but there seemed to be no need for the woman after all. Vash, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, looked up at their arrival and frowned, commenting, "He stopped crying. Now he's just lying there."  
  
Oriole shuffled over to where he lay, still burrowed under the covers, and sniffled slightly as she pulled back the heavy blankets to reveal his curled up form. Tenderly, she brushed the back of her hand over his burning forehead, pushing the hair back just in time to reveal the golden eyes as they fluttered open. A surprised gasp escaped her. "He's awake!"  
  
Grayfall brushed away her concerned hands, feeling crowded. "I - I," he tried to form a coherent sentence, but failed. He settled for holding a hand to his face and sighing, trying to steady the rapidly spinning room. He was so out of it that he didn't even realize Oriole's arms were around his shoulders, embracing him tightly, until she laid her head on his broad shoulder. "How long was I out?"  
  
"A couple of days." Vash shrugged. "You were going on almost a week."  
  
"Wow." He shook his head slowly, allowing Oriole to cling to him with only a faint acknowledgment. "Wow."  
  
"What did you dream about that made you cry?" she asked, finally pulling back but remaining close, one hand pressed to the flat of his chest and the other cupping his cheek.  
  
Their eyes locked as he smiled a little, replying quietly, "My father likes you."  
  
Silently, from her corner of the room, Stormie envied their ability to be so close and to be so free with each other. To be so comfortable.  
  
Vash slipped past and tripped out the door, whistling as he went out to the kitchen to finish his box of donuts. He'd been polishing off the last few when Oriole had come flying down the hall, worried about Grayfall and begging for his help. He had complied, only staring longingly after the pastries, but now he was taking the first opportunity to get back to them.  
  
Without Grayfall and Oriole even noticing, Stormie dissolved from the room as well.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Knives was already asleep, sprawled out on the bed in an almost comical position, limbs thrown here and there. His short blonde hair was a dim platinum in the dark, lips parted as he breathed in and out softly, chest rising almost imperceptibly with each inhale and exhale.  
  
Stormie watched him from the doorway, frowning, brow furrowed. "This is what I've wanted for a long time," she said to the room in a rather listless tone. "It's all I've dreamed about."  
  
She could almost see Desma, the weapon experts who was not most likely being held captive in some plant, standing before her, his blonde hair dyed an unnatural red. "Then why don't you look happy?" he teased lightly, smirking at her.  
  
"Because I'm not," she told the figment of her imagination. "I don't think I can make him happy because I can't be what he wants me to be. I don't think this is right. Maybe I should just stop trying. What's the use of trying to do this when it only hurts?"  
  
"What you gonna do about it?"  
  
"I don't know. It's not like I'm gonna leave him though." She stared blankly at the sleeping man lying atop her covers, one arm flung over his chest and the other pillowing the back of his head. She could've been dramatic about it - she could've cried for him because she didn't know what to do with her love. But she didn't feel anything, so she followed up on that, not moving in the very least. "Geesh, he's beautiful, you know?"  
  
"I wouldn't go that far," whispered the little voice of the rapidly fading Desma. "Do you love him or not?"  
  
"Love him - hate that I can't feel comfortable around him. And I think I know why."  
  
"Naoshi?"  
  
"Deeper than that. There are a few things I have to do before I can be at peace."  
  
"Can he help?"  
  
"I don't think he'd want to. He's not the one I need right now anyway."  
  
"Will you explain?"  
  
"Of course not. He'd never let me back into the house."  
  
Knives stirred now, noticing her eyes heavily placed upon him, and she didn't look away, only maintaining her deadly serious facial cast. "What are you staring at?" he grumbled, rubbing at his eye with one of his fists.  
  
"Knives, we need to talk..."  
  
~~~~~  
  
"He gave it to me as a gift, you know."  
  
Oriole peered over at Grayfall in surprise, not comprehending what he meant by the last nonsensical phrase. He'd been talking about visiting with his dead father for the past half hour, and she, not wanting to upset him in his shaky state, had not questioned him.  
  
"What?" Her soft voice rang loud and clear in the otherwise quiet room.  
  
"The Death Song. Legato gave it to me. To protect me because..." He hesitated. "Because he was never there to save me in the first place."  
  
She moved a little closer to him, peering into his deep, honeyed eyes. One finger touched a deep scar on his abdomen, trailing over the rigid markings. "Your father is the secret behind the Death Song?"  
  
"Ironic, isn't it?"  
  
She chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead as her hand tangled in the silver chain around his neck and felt the heavy cross that hung there. She loved that cross, and she never had figured out why. "Your DEAD father gave you the Death Song?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It is ironic."  
  
They settled closer together in comfortable silence, lying there and basking in the warmth of the other's companionship. These moments only occurred when one was especially troubled, when they needed reassurance to get through the night. Oriole's hands had a habit of playing across the thick scars that littered his body, testimonies of her half-brother's cruelty.  
  
"Hey...."  
  
"What?"  
  
Grayfall shifted away a little and reached behind his neck to unclasp his cross necklace. It pooled into a snaky ribbon of glinting silver in his hands and he suspended it in the air between them, letting her get a good look at the swinging pendent. "I want to give it to you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's like a...sort of a wedding gift." He thrust it towards her, expression serious. "Go on. Take it."  
  
She gently plucked it from his hand, smiling a little. "Thank you."  
  
He nodded. "It's over now, Oriole."  
  
"I know. It's what we've been waiting for, isn't it?"  
  
Suddenly, Grayfall shot up in the bed, seeming to be listening intently to something. Oriole could almost see his ears perking up like a dog's, the look of concentration scrawled across his features showing just how troubled he appeared to be. Slowly, he swung himself over her and onto the floor, walking in long, hurried strides to the door.  
  
"Wait," she said urgently, immediately at his heels, "what's go-"  
  
But she need not finish. The noise had escalated so that even she with her horrible hearing could pick up on it. Apparently, a man and a woman were fighting, their voices raw with pain and disbelief, and from the way the volume was constantly increasing, they were fast approaching.  
  
Grayfall flung open the door just as Stormie dashed by in a rage, Knives stalking after her.  
  
"What's going on?" demanded Vash, who was still sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water, obviously perplexed by the commotion.  
  
"Stop it!" Stormie whirled on Knives, almost in tears and definitely guilty looking. She had stopped just by the front door, her back pressed nervously to it. "I know this isn't fair! I'm sorry I can't explain this to you, but you had no right to say those things to me either!" Her face softened. "Knives...you know what you say means a lot to me...so why would you use petty insults like that...?" Then, turning to look at Vash, she implored, "Watch Faith for me?"  
  
He choked on his water. "Where are you going?!"  
  
"I've got some unfinished business." Shooting a glance at Knives, she growled, "I will come back. Now that Naoshi is gone, I am strong enough to handle whoever else might be out there. Humans are easily dealt with - trust me, I've killed my share. And besides, I'm not going too far. Just into town. Don't worry."  
  
"Naoshi," he snarled. "Is that what this is all about?"  
  
"Don't start that again," she groaned.  
  
"Mom!" Faith came flying out of her room, running to her mother and clinging to her. "Mom! What's going on?"  
  
Xavier stood behind her, looking slightly disinterested. After all, the boy was used to such traumas by now.  
  
Stormie's gaze softened at her child's appearance and briefly she cursed herself under her breath before answering, "Faith, I'll come back for you, I promise. Stay here with Vash. He'll take care of you."  
  
"What's going on?" Grayfall called out above the confusion, repeating the question everyone had already asked but had never received an answer to.  
  
"None of you can help me with this because...I'm going to prove myself once and for all that I am capable of standing on my own too feet without Knives or Grayfall or Vash or Oriole or anyone catching me. I'm going to finish what I started a two years ago, and I'm going to prove to everyone here that I am not just a screw up!" Stormie looked at the crowd gathered around her, the angry and pained look in Knives' eyes and the confusion inscribed in the rest of her friends' voices and faces, at the fear and tenseness of all those who sensed impending doom. Then, shaking her head in dismay, she cast one apologetic glance all around and whispered, "I'm so sorry... It's not what you think, but I don't want to tell you now because you'd all want to come..."  
  
"We don't know now," Oriole said quietly, "and we still went to come."  
  
Stormie laughed a little. "It's no big deal. Let's not dramatize it now. I will have help."  
  
"From who?"  
  
"I don't have time to explain."  
  
Knives' hand was suddenly clamped around her wrist, tightening painfully as he urged her in a husky voice full of suppressed anger, of terrible love and loathing and a million other emotions, "Don't you dare leave like this!"  
  
She ripped away from him, adjusting the strap of her back pack as she bolted out the front door and began to run across the front yard, through the sand, over the first dune in a blind panic, tears streaming from her sapphire eyes and stinging as the cold wind bit into them. His words from the bedroom echoed after her, hissing in her ears. Harsh words. It was why she didn't want him to come. He couldn't understand this last task, the way he had lashed out at her only moments earlier proving it...  
  
It'd really cut deep.  
  
She never glanced over her shoulder, but she knew, she just KNEW that Knives was standing in the doorway, watching with a steely-eyed gaze as she slowed to a walk and continued to make her way across the desert.  
  
"Don't you leave me!" he screamed after her, almost a threat. "Stormie! Don't you walk away!"  
  
She sniffled, swiping her sleeve across her nose. During their argument in the bedroom, she had hastily thrown on her traveling clothes, not even caring anymore if her saw her changing. Her legs already ached, the bruises and swellings on them protesting with each movement.  
  
"I HATE YOU!" he cried, this time sounding close to a breakdown. "YOU ALWAYS RUN AWAY!"  
  
She let the wind be her answer.  
  
"You fool! You'll die, leaving like this all by yourself! Do you want me to come after you?! I won't chase you forever! I'm sick of your games!" Silence for a few moments, and after that, fainter, "TRAITOR!"  
  
And then, as she disappeared over another dune, she imagined him turning and walking, defeated, back into the tiny house and taking off his wedding ring, throwing it across the room with nary a thought for what the others would think.  
  
~*~It's ok, Knives,~*~ her mind soothed from afar, her invisible mental caresses brushing at his angry tears as he sunk against the wall in the hallway, crouching there and choking back angry, frustrated sobs. ~*~We both feel betrayed right now, but I'll come back to you soon - I promise. Wait for me, ok?~*~  
  
~~~~~~  
  
It's not what you think guys - so don't flame me! Stormie isn't going to go do something stupid all alone - she'll get help from some other people. The reason she didn't want Knives to come she'll explain in the next chapter, and the things he said to her in the bedroom will also be explained. Hehe....next chapter might finish it up and I might add an epilogue or something too so I dunno... Anyhow, review! 


	26. You're Home Now

DuesExDream: Hehe, ok, well, now you get to see what happened and why Stormie walked out! *hugs* You've been such a great reviewer! But, now, sadly, this story is closing, and this is the last chapter! That is, unless you want an epilogue...  
  
Jeril Dragonsoul: Ah! Toboe! I love him so! When he holds out his hand to that girl and says, "I just wanted to be yours!" I almost cried. It was soooo sad! Was the part where Toboe and Tsume first met cool? When that guy is gonna shoot Toboe and Tsume jumps down from the rooftop and slashes his hand and then they both like, spring up into the air and do all these back flips and stuff!! lol Well, I won't spoil what happens past episode nine, but I will say this: episodes thirteen through sixteen are sooo pointless. They're all flashback episodes, just from a different character's point of view! So disappointing... Anyhow, sorry I confused you. Maybe this will clear things up...?  
  
Stephanie: I can imagine reading this whole thing would take up a lot of time. I admire your patience. lol Sorry you got mad about Stormie and Naoshi! It's a good thing I resolved it then - haha. You find it touching? Thanks! And here is the conclusion - sort of. Maybe. We'll see.  
  
Hello_lola: I love Legato! Love him to pieces! lol Yep, I find Grayfall and Oriole a cute couple too. Both sort of quiet and reserved... lol Total opposites of Knives and Stormie, right?  
  
Acedia: No pocky! *stops to think about it* Actually, I've never had pocky. A girl at school had it once, but she was so mean she wouldn't give me any! *pouts* Anyhow, I explained it here - hopefully it's good enough for you. If not, well, sorry. Legato... //.^ He's the best!  
  
Kuja's swan: So...how soon is soon for this computer? lol Thanx! Glad you liked the last chapter!  
  
Sami: Frustratingly interesting? Sounds good! Haha.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Bailey was clearing away dinner dishes when it happened. She was standing by the cabinet and packing away the leftovers when the front door was pushed open slightly, and then, when it swung back again, shouldered open by a short, wiry man with flaming red hair and a streak of blood smeared across his left cheek. He carried the limp body of another man piggy-back, arms hooked under his legs, back bowed under the weight. It shocked Bailey, and she turned and quickly swallowed back a scream.  
  
Stormie was just behind him, shouting and yelling orders. Upon catching sight of the frozen Bailey standing in the middle of the kitchen, she yelled, "Bailey! Clear the dinner table!" and slammed the door behind her.  
  
Bailey recognized the unconscious body of Mitayo hanging off the other man's back and dropped the dish she was holding. Thank goodness it was plastic and did not shatter.  
  
Seeing that she was going to be of no use, Stormie growled and ran forward, sweeping out her arm to throw all the contents off the table. They fell and clattered to the ground, but she ignored them, whirling on her heel and commanding, "Desma! Lie him down!"  
  
Bailey gasped when she saw the other man throw Mitayo's lifeless body onto the table surface. The blonde plant was bleeding profusely from his left side, unmoving and seemingly not breathing, his skin as white as the table clothe he was currently staining. While Desma stripped him of his shirt and undid his belt, Stormie knelt on the floor and dug through a bag of medical supplies, muttering to herself as she searched for the right one.  
  
Billy came out from her bedroom, where she had been napping, and stopped in shock when she saw the scene before her. Slowly, aghast, she knelt down beside where Bailey was now huddled and put her arm around the terrified girl.  
  
"Stupid Mitayo," Stormie mumbled to herself, pulling on her thin, latex gloves and sweeping her hair out of her face. "Stupid, stupid Mitayo..."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Two days. It had been two, long, torturous days.  
  
Knives sat on the window seat in Stormie's little house out in the desert, the town looming in the distance, and thought of all the seconds that had gone by without his knowing if she really was ever coming back. After all, last time she'd run away, it'd been for two years, and even then, he'd had to track her down.  
  
Sighing, he glanced over at the golden band slowly collecting dust on the hard wood floor of the hallway. He had yet to touch it after having ripped it off his hand and violently thrown it across the room, where it skidded and rolled to a stop in the corner. Vash had bent to pick it up, but he had screamed at him to leave it alone in such a way that everyone had been walking carefully around it and avoiding letting their eyes alight on the angry testimony as if it possessed some sort of evil.  
  
Speaking over everyone else, Oriole and Grayfall were treating Vash and the kids to dinner to celebrate their upcoming wedding. Knives had politely declined and advised Grayfall to get out while he still could, also sharing some words of wisdom with Oriole.  
  
"Marriage should die," he had informed her sagely.  
  
Now, a sandstorm had started up and although it wasn't too nasty, he suspected they'd be staying in one of the hotels over night until morning, when driving conditions would be more favorable. So, that left Knives all alone, gazing out the window, leaning his chin onto the back of his hand, trying to define the shape moving closing and closer to the house...  
  
When he opened the door, sand and wind gushed in, momentarily blinding him. Quickly, he slammed it behind him, squinted into the distance, and frowned hard when he realized it was a woman limping towards him.  
  
She stopped about two yards away, standing there, looking like she almost felt...exuberant and relieved, not scared and guilty like he had expected. She smiled at him brilliantly, her heavy shirt and pants soaked through with still drying blood and ripped in several places, her hair matted down with sweat and scarlet life fluid, which had gathered in sticky clumps on the right side of her head. The harshly blowing sand had collected in the blood, giving her a grainy appearance, and although her bright blue eyes were half shut in exhaustion, she seemed truly happy.  
  
He crossed his arms stiffly, observing her with a carefully blank stare.  
  
"Knives," she said quietly, taking a step towards him, halting a little as her body began to obviously give out, "I'm home, Knives."  
  
He did not catch her when she fell to her knees, tripping clumsily over her own feet and soundlessly crashing to the ground. She didn't seem to care, just sighing a little and achingly pushing herself back up once more, the smile still on her face.  
  
He winced, seeing at how childishly she continued to smile and gaze at him with tired blue eyes that clearly said she believed he would catch her should she fall again. She didn't know why he hadn't the first time, but she was confident if it happened again, he'd be there. He could've kicked her while she was down and she still would have continued to move towards him, to love him and believe he loved her back.  
  
"You know what I did?" she asked proudly. "I...I walked into town to where Mitayo and Bailey live... I asked them to help me free Desma and Desiree - and they did. We saved Desma, Knives. He's back with them. I helped my friend...and I got over what Mitayo did. It doesn't bother me anymore!" She was only a foot away now, reaching out to put one red-stained hand on his shoulder, lips turning down into a slow, hesitant frown. "But...I'm really tired..." She moved forward a little, leaning against him, steadying herself, talking through her drowsiness. "Help me...?"  
  
Knives had no choice but to swing her up into his arms when she collapsed, gathering her limp body into his arms and carrying her out of the blinding sand storm and into the quiet safety of the house. She smelled of death and pain, but she appeared to be quite content with him, happy with the results of her rescue mission. "Why Mitayo?" he asked gruffly. "Why not me?"  
  
"Because...I needed to forgive him, and it's like you and Grayfall..." Her eyelashes fluttered, lifting off her pale cheeks to reveal ocean orbs that stared up at him affectionately. "He forgave you because you worked towards a common goal - getting rid of Naoshi. So me and Mitayo worked towards helping Desma..."  
  
"And you think that after that sort of a stunt you can just come right back?!" He glared at the woman lying helpless in his grasp. "You made me think you were never coming back! Why couldn't you have told me what you were doing?!"  
  
"I was afraid...you'd accuse me of things...if I said I wanted Mitayo to go with me. You know...what you said in the bedroom." She squinted up at him, hurt reflected in her expression. "You said that you didn't know why you put up with me because..."  
  
"Stop it, Stormie," he seethed, not wanting to hear his own words repeated.  
  
"Because...I've been tainted by Naoshi and you shouldn't want to touch me after... You said you didn't think he raped me and I let him do it." She paused. "I just didn't want you to say anything about me and Mitayo either."  
  
"Hey, I'm...I didn't meant it. I was angry."  
  
"I know. You've got...quite a temper..."  
  
Choosing not to comment on that, he sniffed disdainfully and walked into the small bathroom that connected to her bedroom, saying, "You are in desperate need of a shower. Can you stand on your own?" Just holding her against his chest had coated his neck, arms, and the front of his shirt in blood and sand.  
  
Stormie could no longer see. Everything had turned to fuzz and then to a hazy black. She thought for a moment, swinging her tired legs and finding they simply did not want to support her, and besides, being in Knives' arms was comfortable... Even her lolling head felt like it was moving through jelly, and when she opened her mouth, breathing in the intoxicatingly warm air, she could only whisper, "You're dirty too... Don't leave..."  
  
When he answered, she couldn't make out the words, but they sounded vaguely surprised. No longer did she feel anything; she was too tired for that. Really, all that registered in her mind were ghost touches as her clothes were peeled away from her battered body and then being put down, picked up, swung around, thrust forward, and finally, stilling. A little shiver as lukewarm water hit her cuts and then a harsh sigh when her feet hit the ceramic floor of the shower, the arm that had been hooked beneath sliding away. She leaned back against the arm that looped around her waist, supporting her, and relished in how the liquid pelting her skin heated to a nice temperature that melted away most of the soreness in her limbs.  
  
Knives said something once more, but she didn't hear enough to reply. But his voice was like a smile, and satisfied with that, she let the rest of her consciousness slip away from her.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Stormie was pleasantly hazy, eyes closed, mind devoid of all thoughts. All that remained was the enveloping warmth of the small bed and the solid shoulder on which her head lay, one hand lazily resting against Knives' chest. It was somewhere around dawn, she assumed, though she couldn't exactly be sure. Everything was sort of jumbled.  
  
"Does it hurt?" Knives asked softly, his questioning voice penetrating her thoughts.  
  
"What?" she asked drowsily, moving a little closer, latching onto him. She'd always slept hugging a pillow or a teddy bear - now Knives was just going to have to deal with her habit.  
  
"You're covered in wounds."  
  
"They're shallow," she murmured. "Mitayo took the brunt of the damage."  
  
"But it still looks like it'd hurt just to be touched."  
  
She sleepily sighed. "It does a little, but I don't care."  
  
Knives stared up at the ceiling, not moving in the very least. He was not holding her as she was him - he wasn't the type, and besides, he didn't want to put any more pressure on her cuts. Instead, he lay there, listening to the sand storm still raging outside, drowning in a pool of thoughts.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Oriole, might as well wake them up." Vash shook the woman sitting beside him in the jeep, trying to jog her sleep-deprived mind awake enough to carry out the task. While she stirred fitfully and struggled with her seat belt, he climbed out of the vehicle and stretched his legs.  
  
Grayfall, Xavier, and Faith were asleep in the back seat, having drifted off somewhere around three A.M. Now, at eight in the morning, they were finally arriving back home. The sand storm had not even let up until an hour ago, and then he and Grayfall had worked on trying to get the jeep to start again for forty-five minutes, all the built up sand having not only killed the engine, but put them in a pretty deep hole. Literally. As for their activities during the storm, they'd been on their way home and had therefore been forced to stop right there in the middle of the desert. Fortunately, Vash had had the idea of pulling a heavy tarp over the top of the vehicle and shielding the interior from the harsh elements. There, the four of them huddled under a tautly stretched sheet of plastic, Oriole had pulled out a flash light and begun to tell ghost stories that had lasted for hours and hours until the storm let up.  
  
Now, they had arrived back at Stormie's house, where Vash suspected Knives would be still asleep. Although an early riser, he'd been spending a lot of time in bed lately, moping about.  
  
The blond plant made his way to the door, fishing about in his pocket for the keys before realizing he did not need them, for the door had been left carelessly open. Curious, he stepped inside, called out his brother's name, and received no answer.  
  
The shower was running.  
  
Whistling, he made his way back to the bedroom and stepped inside, stopping dead in his tracks when he noticed a lump huddled under the covers, a hand poking out on the left side. "Knives!" he reprimanded the figure curled up on the bed sharply. "You left the shower running!"  
  
A little grunt was his reply as the body shifted a bit.  
  
"Come on now! Time to wake up! Weren't you worried about me at all?" No reply. "I'm hurt Knives, really. Up, up, up! Breakfast!" And, stalking over to the edge of the mattress, he woke his twin in the customary manner that he had developed as a child. He reached under the sheets and by sense of touch located Knive's head, grabbed a fistful of hair, and pulled, yanking him up and out from under the covers.  
  
However, this time, instead of Knives replying with a barked out insult and growl, there was a shrill shriek and long, golden hair spilled over from his fist, onto the pillow, a woman jerking painfully towards him.  
  
He blinked, freezing in his surprise.  
  
She had been thrown forwards, her bare back bowed forward as her naked shoulders and arms quaked in shock and fear. When she lifted her face, Stormie looked back at him with wide, blue eyes, her mouth gaping. And then, clutching at the sheets to cover herself, desperately clawing at them when they refused to cooperate, she slid back underneath the covers and screamed, loud and shrill and piercing.  
  
He joined her, the pitch of his yell warbling back and forth between that of a terrified adolescent male and a highly embarrassed girl.  
  
The door to the bathroom was thrown open as if a hurricane itself had ripped off the hinges and an irate Knives, dripping wet and with a towel wrapped around his waist, burst out. At seeing his brother, he skidded to a stop, looked at the screaming couple, and yelled at the top of his lungs, "VASH! OUT!"  
  
Vash, whimpering, obeyed, dashing out the door. He tripped, ran, stumbled, and at the end, crawled back out onto the front porch, panting, crying, blushing with such a fierce intensity that he was on the verge of tears.  
  
Grayfall, who was now up and carrying a sleeping Xavier, whereas Faith was cradled in Oriole's arms, shot him a suspicious look.  
  
"Stormie's back!" he blurted out, and proceeded to babble idiocy about getting back into the jeep and renting a few hotel rooms to stay in for the next week.  
  
Grayfall's eyes widened, the golden orbs perfectly suspended in a sea of white. "You walked in on them, didn't you?" he realized, his voice filled with awe. "I can't believe it! You walked in on them!"  
  
"Please," the gunman begged, "take me back to town where it's safe! As soon as Knives gets some clothes on, I know he's gonna come out and kill me!"  
  
Oriole held up a hand for him to stop, saying gravely, "I don't want to even know what you saw. Just get back in the car and we'll have breakfast in town today. Hurry now - close that front door and we'll be off."  
  
~~~~~  
  
The next day, Desma dropped by for a visit. He was looking a little worn, but in pretty good shape for someone who had been through such an ordeal. With a grateful smile, he'd gladly told everyone the details Stormie had refused to share, how she and Mitayo had saved him, but, as hard as they had tried, had been too late to rescue Desiree, who had died only moments after they had arrived. He explained how Mitayo had taken a bullet for Stormie and was currently laid up back at his own apartment, where Bailey and Billy were watching after him. As he told this part, he looked at Xavier and winked, remarking, "We'd be dead without your dad."  
  
Xavier colored a little in shame and directed his gaze to the floor. As plants age quickly, he was already looking older than when Stormie had brought him home, having shot up in height nearly five inches as his face grew to be more angled like his father's, and his body stretched out into a lean, athletic form. His hair, still long, was normally pulled away from his face in a ponytail tied back at the nape of his neck.  
  
Soon after Desma had left, Stormie called the boy back into the kitchen. She was stiff and sore from all her wounds and not really having given them proper time to heal, opting instead for other physical activities...  
  
Limping a little, she pulled out a chair for herself and then sat down, cringing as she did. Once he was seated as well, she leaned forward, took his hand, and told him bluntly, "You need to move back in with your parents."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's ok, Xavier. Forgive them. They loved each other, and you know what? I'm grateful because Mitayo pushed me closer to Knives - which is who I belong with. You're their child and they want you back so badly it hurts them, and I know you want them too."  
  
Xavier glanced away, muttering, "I like living here..."  
  
"Hey, kid, I'm not trying to get rid of you! Don't look at me like that. I love you like my own son - I think the fact that I let you use my hammock shows that. Anyhow, why don't you just try to go back with them? If a few weeks pass and you don't like it, you can come back, ok?"  
  
He didn't look quite convinced, but nodded mutely anyway. He knew this had all been planned - especially the part about Desma coming over and gushing about how great his father was. Earlier, he'd heard Stormie and Knives talking about how one of the reasons Mitayo had agreed to help her was that she had promised to get Xavier to move back in with him and Bailey. But, if it made Stormie happy...and the house was sort of crowded...  
  
"Oh, good! You can pack tonight and we'll have a party for you and we'll take you out tomorrow and then you can visit anytime!" Stormie was back to her old chipper self, moving on to quickly talk about party plans though they fell on deaf ears.  
  
Xavier didn't want a party. He wanted to know where he truly belonged.  
  
~~~~~  
  
The party was great, really. How could it not be with that group? Vash bought about a thousand party poppers and proceeded to let each and everyone explode in either Knives' or Xavier's face, succeeding in earning a death warrant from both, whereas as Stormie was busy either bringing out food from the kitchen or calling out ridiculous, nonsensical phrases above all the noise. Faith had informed him it was best to ignore her when she was drunk off the party high.  
  
Oriole and Grayfall were really the only semi-normal people there, for Desma, although in attendance, was proving to be quite a story-teller who had a horrible habit of breaking into hysterical laughter with Stormie for no reason.  
  
For example, Knives could be sitting there with a frown on his face, as usual, eating his food slowly and politely. Then, he could lift his head, look around, and ask, "Can someone pass the salt?" and both Stormie and Desma would surprise everyone in the room by chuckling as if at someone private joke, letting the noise graduate and grow until both were clutching at their sides, doubled over.  
  
Xavier wondered how he could leave this and possibly be happy. Bailey and Mitayo - whenever he was around them, he tasted nothing in the air but stale memories and old pain. And Faith... Faith was his best, his ONLY, friend. He'd be so bored without her!  
  
When they drove him out the next day and he hugged Faith goodbye and received a kiss on the forehead from Stormie, he felt as though this was permanent - he'd never see them again. However, when he stepped bravely up to the door, suitcase in hand, and rang the bell, a short, dark-haired woman opened the door and smiled brightly at him.  
  
"Billy?" he asked in surprise. He knew a little about her, although he probably should've known more seeing as how she had been through this whole ordeal with them. The thing that struck him strangest about her was that her son happened to be Faith's half-brother.  
  
"Xavier, we've been expecting you, but not for another hour! Oh, I live here to, remember? Come in, come in! Your father is asleep but your mother is working on her sculpture!"  
  
Sculpture? Xavier's brows drew together in surprise. This was the first he'd heard of a 'sculpture'. Was Bailey some sort of artist?  
  
As he was ushered into the apartment, he found that it was very lovely, very expensive, but comfortable looking. That's when he remembered that Billy's father owned his own company and therefore must have a great deal of money. All the furniture was overstuffed and colorful, and the walls were a rosy red in the first hallway, and then, in the living room, a sunny yellow with a wooden floor to accentuate their cheery color.  
  
Bailey was wearing a dirt-stained smock with her hair swept up in a loose bun, holding a rather large pair of shears and studying a potted, leafy bush that was as tall as her. It was starting to take the shape of a women, he thought, though he couldn't even fathom how they'd got it in the door.  
  
He cleared his throat.  
  
She turned, saw him, and her face lit up. Immediately he was swept up in his mother's embrace, and received an earnest apology when she realized she had rubbed quite a bit of dirt onto him. "Mitayo will be happy you're here," she informed him. "He's back in bed right now. You wanna go see him?"  
  
Bed...? Oh yes, Xavier remembered something about Mitayo having taken a bullet for Stormie back at the plant. "Sure," he said hesitantly.  
  
Bailey led him into a bedroom with sky-blue walls and a half-finished mural of a blooming garden on the left wall. "I've been working on that," she explained, "to cheer him up." And then, she motioned to the bed, where Mitayo was stretched onto his side, the covers draped around his hips just low enough to reveal the bandages wrapped around his waist. He was asleep still, rather deeply from the looks of it, and deathly pale.  
  
"How bad was it?" Xavier wanted to know. He had expected Mitayo not to look his best, and although he didn't look too bad either, it was a little unnerving to see him in such a frail state.  
  
"Oh, it's not too bad. We first thought it to be fatal, but Stormie does wonders! You should've seen it! She and Desma dragged him in the front door and I just about lost it, I was so scared. He looked dead already and was covered in blood. She told me to clear off the dinner table and when I didn't move, she just sort of threw out her arm and knocked everything onto the floor. Then, Desma hefted him up there and she took out this bag of medical stuff I'd never even seen before and, well, I don't know what happened after that, but he's here!" Bailey was terribly impressed. "Oh, should I wake him then?"  
  
Xavier tried to look aloof. "If you want."  
  
Walking to where he lay, tapping gently on his forehead and calling his name, Bailey chuckled a little when he lethargically raised a hand to smack hers away. Then, grunting in pain at the movement, he opened clouded eyes and let them drift lazily towards Xavier, who stood petrified in the doorway. Slowly, the corners of his mouth curled into a smirk. "So, Stormie convinced you after all..."  
  
Bailey perched on the edge of the bed, smiling brightly at her son. "We're happy you're here. We love you."  
  
Mitayo didn't feel like adding to the sentiment; he just tucked a hand behind his head and grinned. "Still hate us?"  
  
And to his surprise, Xavier heard his own voice, wavering but clear, answer, "I never did."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Faith stared at the small picture cradled in her hands, gawking at the smiling face and the glittering eyes. She looked up at her mother and frowned in confusion, opening her mouth to protest, but found she had no words to use. They'd all flown away somewhere.  
  
"You look like him," Stormie said quietly.  
  
Faith looked back down at Naoshi. He wasn't alone in the picture, standing beside Billy and balancing Vincent on his hip, a hand waving in a friendly manner to the camera. "Strange to think this is my dad," she muttered, flipping to the next picture to see it was one of him in a more contemplative pose, sitting in a tree with his back against the trunk, one long leg hanging down while the other was drawn towards his chest on the branch. The picture only had his profile, as if he was gazing at something in the distance and was not aware he was being photographed.  
  
"It is, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes." Faith frowned, biting her lip. "Don't you hate him?"  
  
"Why would I? It's easier to just forgive him. And besides, he was pretty messed up, but he loved you. He really did. And it wasn't a kind of love I would advise to be practiced..." She laughed a little. "But still, don't waste your time loathing him. He's dead, and before he died, he DID save my life. He tried to redeem himself."  
  
"Impossible." But instead of flinging the pictures away from her, Faith tucked them into her pocket and smiled. "But who cares? Knives is my dad now."  
  
Stormie remained where she stood after her daughter left, kneeling down to pick up another photo of the man. Billy had given her some at her request. As she studied the handsome killer's face, she smiled a little and touched her cheek, telling him, "I guess I could say thank you for Faith..." She sighed, and then, sadly, "Too bad things turned out like this, huh? You could've been some sort of person, but now look at ya'. No one will remember you fondly. No one is going to grieve you. It's a shame, Naoshi. It really is. Because you could've been a beautiful person." And she dropped the piece of paper to the ground, walking away from it without a care.  
  
The captured image continued to smile even after she had left it, a bittersweet memory in itself.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Alright, guys, it's a little sad (for me at least) but this story is OVER! Of course, I'll probably write an epilogue, but that's only if I get a decent amount of reviews. Hehe. Anyhow, review and tell me what you thought! 


	27. Epilogue: Happy Endings

Final Disclaimer: Don't own Trigun!  
  
Riyo_gunchild: Alrighty, here's the epilogue! Thanx a bunch for your review! I'm glad you liked it so much! lol It's kind of funny you should say you like all the original characters, because it was really supposed to be just Grayfall, but I just couldn't stop myself from adding new people! Haha. Anyhow, tell me what you think of this too! ^_^  
  
Kamazova: Wah! I'm so sad this is the end! It was such a LONG story for me too! I'm glad I'm not the only one who will miss it. This is definitely the end of the line for me, and I don't think I can make a sequel, although I do have a twisted idea in mind... Hehe. We'll see about that though. Anyhow, thanks for everything! God bless you too! lol  
  
Stephanie: I just can't let a bad guy go! I love my evil villains way too much! The same thing happened to me when I watched the last episode of Trigun. I was like, "Cool! They changed the ending theme song!" And then I was like, "Hey! Nice shot of Knives butt there!" And then it was like, "What's with the blank screen...? AHH! IT'S OVER!" Ok, so your reaction was more tame, but hey...lol.  
  
Sami: Knives babies? Well, I came close here. lol Thanks for all your reviews! I REALLY appreciated them! I'll write another Trigun fic soon as I get another idea. Hehe. ~_^  
  
Raditz: Your welcome for the entertainment! Thanx for the review! lol I know how that goes - school tomorrow, but a fanfic to read. Haha. Annnnnnd here would be the epilogue!  
  
Hello_lola: *sniff* I'll miss you - I'll miss everyone! *sniffle* Here's the epilogue though, and I hope it's just as good as the rest of the story.  
  
Kuja's Swan: Oh my - CHRISTMAS?! lol That's ok; I'll wait patiently. *sits and waits patiently* In the meantime, you read and review this epilogue.  
  
DuesExDream: You didn't review! NOOOOO!! *falls into dark hole* And it's over now! You better review this epilogue or ELSE! Ya' hear?  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"You ok?"  
  
"Hmm?" Stormie cracked one eye open and smiled a little - well, at least she tried. She was tired, worn, exhausted, and utterly spent to the point where she had run out of adjectives to describe her lethargic state. There wasn't a thought that passed through her mind; she remained carefully blank because she had to - no, scratch that - because she WANTED to. "Fine, fine."  
  
He stared down at her, contemplating, wondering. Why was she so distant lately? Three years in the confines of marriage and all seemed to be going smoothly, or at least he thought so. Oriole and Grayfall had moved out shortly after Xavier, and Vash had accompanied them only to take up mindless wandering a few months later. They received letters from him every now and then, and he visited at least six times a year, though he did seem a little lonely still...  
  
As for Faith, with her plant heritage, she was basically all grown up - a young woman with the same goofy, tomboyish personality that her mother had implanted in her mind from an early age. It was almost painful though, Knives had noticed, for Stormie to see her daughter mature, for as she had, her body had stretched to a reasonably tall height, her long, platinum hair had turned snow white, and her blue eye had only grown brighter while the color of the purple one was more dazzling. Her face, round and porcelain- skinned, had features that did not resemble Stormie's at all - her nose was too long and straight, her lips were too full and her chin came to a sharp point. Knives had seen the face before, and he knew Stormie had as well.  
  
It was Naoshi's.  
  
Everyday Faith looked more like her father, her limbs long and lean, her eyes exotic. She seemed unaware of it, but her parents recognized it all too well. They never talked about it, so Knives didn't know if it made Stormie sad in the sense that she missed Naoshi, was sorry that he had had to die, or was angry at the man and hated him, or simply didn't like the fact her daughter looked like the plant assassin.  
  
Now, as he sat on the window seat in their bedroom, knees drawn to his chest, arms resting upon them, head turned to stare at his wife as she lay stretched out in bed, refusing to get up and start the day, he didn't know what else to do or think. Stormie had been lying in bed all day, as she had for the past two weeks, and she was growing increasingly irritable. "You haven't been quite yourself," he pointed out to her.  
  
She rolled over onto her stomach and crossed her arms beneath her chin, sighing. "I know." Then, after a slight pause, she tilted her head to look over at him, and curiously, asked, "What would you say if I told you I told you I thought I was pregnant?"  
  
And Knives found then that, quite frankly, he couldn't say anything.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Whoa! Stormie! What's with the watermelon in your pajamas?!"  
  
"Haha, very funny, Vash." Stormie had greeted her brother-in-law at the door, a tub of chocolate ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few wispy strands escaping to frame her disgruntled face, and she was wearing what looked to be a very lived-in pair of blue and white striped pajamas. Digging her spoon into the ice cream and dislodging a chunk, which was promptly transported to her mouth, she shot the blonde man opposite her a glare and said, "You do know how VIOLENT pregnant women can be, right?"  
  
"Um, actually, no!" He gave her that charming, goofy grin and motioned for her to move aside that he might step in. This made Stormie even more offended, for she assumed that he was insinuating that he could not move past due to her newer, larger body, and in turn, calling her fat. Vash, noticing the evil look being shot his way, frowned and patted her on the back, asking, "What's wrong? Something I said?"  
  
"No, no," she said through gritted teeth, graciously letting him pass by. Her belly had swollen like a balloon, greatly rounded and revealing that she was VERY pregnant. This was not necessarily a good thing. She did not feel attractive, happy, or even very mobile with the extra weight, plus all the added discomfort that came with having a baby wasn't making it easier either. And it did not help that people were constantly dropping by to tease her. The only one to be sympathetic so far had been Oriole, who had had twin girls about a year back, and knew what it felt like.  
  
"Twins," Stormie had mused aloud. "Don't twins always skip a generation?"  
  
"Yes," Grayfall had murmured, also perplexed. "Wouldn't that mean that Legato had had a twin?"  
  
All had looked to Knives for confirmation, who had nodded gravely and murmured, "Killed the same day I got Legato. He was twelve."  
  
Stormie had considered the possibility that she was carrying twins, but like she had previously stated, they skipped a generation. But was that true also with plants? She wasn't sure.  
  
Knives was sitting in the kitchen, looking rather worn and frazzled instead of sporting his normal cool, collected attitude. A cup of coffee in his hands, raised every now and then to his lips, was being nursed to its death in an excruciatingly slow manner. "Vashu," he greeted when his brother bounced in, the spiky-haired sibling seeming disappointed by the lack of energy in the house.  
  
"You two are both so dreary looking!" he commented angrily. "When I come to visit, I expect happy people! What's going on here? Come on! This is NOT fair!"  
  
"We're experiencing one of Stormie's 'lows'," Knives replied quietly, his eyelids drooping low over expressionless eyes. "She isn't feeling good about herself today, and in turn, has dragged me down with her. When she is not happy, I am not allowed to be either." He paused, glancing at the woman beside him as she viciously attacked the carton of ice cream. "Because I did THIS to her."  
  
Stormie grunted.  
  
"Well," Vash commented cheerily, "the big family cookout should cheer you up! And, if that doesn't do it, the announcement I make at dinner will. By the way, I'm bringing a guest."  
  
"Oh? Found a girlfriend?" Knives glanced up dully.  
  
Vash could only pout, his green eyes watering up. "No FAIR! How did you know my surprise?"  
  
"Because you are predictable, Vashu." He sighed melodramatically, getting up to dump his cold coffee out in the sink. While he was up, he began to make himself a new pot, if only for the sake of having something to do. "So, Vashu, is she a human?"  
  
"Why, yes she is," he sniffed indignantly. "But that doesn't matter! I'm getting old enough now that I should start aging right along with her. Her name is Sharon, she's a redhead, and she's twenty-one. And that's all the information you're getting out of me!"  
  
"Great," the couple replied in bored unison.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Faith and Bailey were in charge of the food for the cook out. They had volunteered, actually, seeing as how they were the only ones without small children underfoot. Faith, while newly married, had yet to have a child, and Bailey and Mitayo had never had another son or daughter, making Xavier their only, if not pampered, one. Both Oriole and Stormie advised them to stay as they were, much to the puzzlement of both.  
  
"Alright," said Faith, looking in the cookbook she had confiscated from her mother's kitchen, "we need to start boiling water for the eggs. And we should probably get Mitayo to set the steaks on the grill soon."  
  
"Oh, not until we've got some of the other food done," Bailey said with a smile, beginning to pull pots and pans from her cabinets. The cookout was at the new house she and Mitayo had recently built, having realized they needed to get out of Billy's hair sooner or later, preferably sooner. Meryl's daughter had appreciated their help while raising Vincent and her daughter, Milly, but now that the kids were older, she had no more need for them, although she did mention once or twice she could use the extra room...  
  
The door slammed and Faith spun around, struck what she assumed was a cute pose (especially with her blue apron) and cried, "Our dashing husbands are home!"  
  
Mitayo nodded his greeting while Xavier blushed a little, embarrassed as Faith pretended to swoon.  
  
Bailey waved her husband over, asking curiously, "Do you think we should make chocolate cake or chocolate pudding for dessert?"  
  
"Make both," he said wisely. "Stormie has been craving it lately, and Billy is bringing her parents as well as that Milly Thompson woman. You know how she is."  
  
"Yes," Bailey answered, but in all truth, she really didn't. She'd only met Milly a few times and knew very little of the woman's pudding obsession. But, she did not want to seem ignorant in her husband's presence, and to say she did not remember the woman and her most famous characteristic seemed rather rude.  
  
A feat over, Faith was teasing Xavier mercilessly, pulling on his cheek and kissing the tip of his nose as she cooed over how long the forty-five minutes without him had seemed. He'd grown into a handsome young man, which should've surprised no one, Mitayo said, for both his parents were extremely good-looking. He had his father's strong, broad-shouldered build and his mother's fine features. His long, platinum hair had been lobbed off a while ago, now cut so that it barely brushed his shoulders.  
  
"Faith, the poor boy is blushing red as a tomato," Bailey sighed, trying to defend her son's pride. "Tomatoes. That reminds me. You should cut some up for the salad."  
  
Faith good-naturedly complied, leaving Xavier alone in order to tend to the cooking.  
  
Two hours later, when the food was done and Grayfall's brood as well as a very cranky Stormie and Knives had arrived, the group found themselves waiting for the arrival of Billy and her family, which basically consisted of her two children, her parents (who had married each other once more), and Milly Thompson. Vash had informed everyone beforehand he'd be a few hours late.  
  
When Billy's clan finally did show up, apologizing for their tardiness, there was general chaos and disorder and a mad scramble for the buffet of food, as there generally is with a group that size. They were eating in the backyard, which, Mitayo had skillfully coaxed to grow into a garden- like paradise. He was very good like that, having made himself quite a lot of money with his reputation of being able to make the very desert spring forth with life.  
  
"Well," Oriole told Stormie as she tried to cradle one of the twins in her arms, "how is it going? Strangled Knives yet?"  
  
"Just about to," Stormie admitted nonchalantly, gnawing away at a pickle she had dipped in some chocolate pudding.  
  
Oriole hugged closer the little golden-eyed, raven-haired girl in her arms, scolding her, "Legata! Behave now!" Then, to Stormie, she commented, "Don't worry. It will eventually get better."  
  
Stormie found the strength to give her friend a half-hearted smile. "I know, I know. I was like this with Faith too. I just...I really am happy about this. I mean, I wanted a baby for Knives. With Knives. It just isn't quite what I would call fun."  
  
"No, not really." Oriole snatched up the hand of the other twin, who was trying to crawl away. "Brielle! Behave!"  
  
Stormie grinned, remembering Oriole's mother's name to be the same as the one the younger twin bore.  
  
Off to the left, where the men had gathered, Knives was lamenting his woes to Grayfall, who was quietly reassuring him that Stormie would not be in a perpetual bad mood the rest of her life, and that eventually, she would allow his touch without screaming 'take your hands off me, you pig!'.  
  
Mitatyo listened, smirking, and wondered to himself what the two were complaining about. Having not had to ever deal with a pregnant wife, he figured he had full mocking rights.  
  
Milly and Meryl sat by themselves and reminisced over the past and marveled at where they were now. Milly, who had married a kindhearted bartender that had passed away nearly five years ago, talked softly of both her husband and Wolfwood, never comparing them, but conveying through her words that she had loved both dearly.  
  
"Wolfwood," Meryl repeated, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. "I know it sounds ridiculous because I was never really close to him anyway, but I've always missed him, Milly."  
  
Milly grinned. "Me too."  
  
"I'M HE~RE!" Vash announced at the top of his lungs, causing every head to turn his way. "Miss me? Ya' know you did! Ok, everyone, meet Sharon." He then presented to them a short, slightly chunky, but nonetheless, very pretty woman, her eyes as green as the leafy plants growing in Mitayo's garden, her hair a coppery red. She was polite, she was reserved, and she complimented Vash very nicely.  
  
"Mr. Vash sure looks young, doesn't he?" Milly commented.  
  
Meryl nodded slowly, letting one slim finger trace the rim of her cup. "Compared to us he does. It makes me a little sad to look at him, Milly. I mean...he hasn't aged at all, and here we are. We're so different - and back twenty years ago, I realized it, but I didn't think it would feel so strange when this time came..."  
  
"Oh, but think of all the happy times we had!" Milly cried enthusiastically, and launched into a detailed account of all their misadventures, only to be interrupted by Vash leading Sharon over to meet his 'oldest and dearest' friends.  
  
The day ended a little too quickly, but all decided this was preferable to it dragging on in boredom. As everyone parted to make their way home to individual houses, Stormie found her state of irritability decreasing as a good mood rolled in. This was displayed when she, once home, scooted over closer to Knives and kissed him on the forehead.  
  
He just about flew out of bed, arms raised protectively, mouth set in a suspicious frown. She had been complaining about how horrible physical touch was for the past two months, so it was quite easy to understand his surprise.  
  
"Knives," she said quietly, "sorry I've been such a...mental case lately."  
  
"Um, it's ok," he said, very much in awe. It'd been a while since she'd apologized for anything. Throwing cartons of milk at him, kicking him in the shin for no reason, making him breakfast in bed only to suddenly have an outburst and end up pouring syrup onto his lap - all these things had brought her no guilt. What had suddenly changed her mind?  
  
She lay down beside him and allowed him to stroke his fingers through her hair a few times before he settled down as well, the two staring at the ceiling in quiet relaxation.  
  
"So..." Knives cleared his throat nervously. "Do you ever think about him? ...Naoshi, I mean."  
  
She frowned, and then, answering in all honesty, replied, "Yes."  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"I remember being pregnant with Faith and feeling sick all the time. Because it was his kid. Ya' know, he watched me a lot from afar. If I had known, I might've gone crazy and slit my own throat." She let there be a lengthy silence. "Sometimes, I remember him right before he died, when he was talking of changing. He was sick with the flu or something when Grayfall fought him, you know. Imagine how strong he must've been...to be able to fight when he was in such a weakened state." She shot her husband an impish grin. "I sometimes wonder what it was like between him and Billy. We never talk about it, the fact that he was torn between us. It's weird. Sort of sick."  
  
Knives shrugged. "I didn't like the guy."  
  
"I know, Knives, which is why I am not following in the footsteps of the rest of our friends and naming the baby after him, seeing as how they all insisted on naming their children after someone significant in their past."  
  
Knives didn't even want to respond to that. He merely turned onto his side, looking at her with a dull, almost lifeless expression, just the hint of a smile on his lips. The room was dark, but he could still make out the blue of her wide open eyes. His hand raised, slipping under her shirt to touch her largely rounded belly, his thumb smoothing over her navel as he felt the baby kicking, striking against his palm. "Moves a lot, doesn't it?"  
  
"Sometimes, its foot will get caught in my ribs when it kicks, and then I have to reach up and kind of massage my side to help it get loose again."  
  
Knives flopped back down on the bed, groaning. "Stormie, that was unnecessary information."  
  
He hadn't even known that sort of thing was possible. It sounded painful though. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized just how much he would hate such a thing, and his side began to ache as if he really could feel the kicking, squirming thing thrusting its ankle through his ribcage. Touching a hand to his side, he quieted his thoughts and let himself rub away the imaginary pain.  
  
Stormie grinned and turned her back to him, only to feel him follow, his chest pressing to her back snugly as one arm snaked around to curve over her.  
  
"G'night, Knives."  
  
"Good night, Storm."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Faith, I'm tired," whined Xavier, only to receive no mercy from his energetic wife, who immediately launched herself against his chest, wrapping arms firmly about his neck to ensure that he would not escape. Her weight threw him off balance and she giggled madly as he toppled back with a shout, landing on the bed with her on top.  
  
"Xavier, baby," she sighed, holding on to the writhing man, "you need to stop being so shy."  
  
He wriggled out of her grasp and climbed onto his hands and knees, only to have her leach onto his body once more, arms still heavy around his neck as she lay beneath him, grinning up at his terrified face. "Let me go, Faith," he pleaded. "I don't want to wrestle tonight. I'm always afraid I'll hurt you so I go too easy on you and end up getting beat up!"  
  
She made an exasperated noise. "Just like when we were kids," she grumbled, though she did not release him. He remained on all fours above her, hands on either side of her shoulders, knees parted and pressing against her hips. "I know you're stronger than me, Xavier," she coaxed, "and that's why I like playing with you." Again, she pinched his cheek. "It's so cute you try not to be rough, and it's almost fun when you do get me pinned because I can try my hardest and know I'm not getting up, but just the thought that someday I might is enough to keep me trying!"  
  
He blinked down at her, mouth gaping in astonishment. "Why are you so weird?" he whined.  
  
"'Cuz I'm like my mother," she replied, leaning up to press her lips lightly to his. "And you like me like that." She kissed him again, grinning against his mouth when she found him responding. "See?" she stated when he pulled away. "It's not so hard to be a little fun, is it? Just stop panicking about everything. You worry a lot. Just play with me!"  
  
This time it was Xavier who leaned in to kiss her, though he did jolt in surprise when she tightened her grip on his neck and wrapped her legs securely around his waist.  
  
"Alright," he relented in what sounded to be an exhausted voice, letting himself fall to the side so that they landed in a heap on the bed. "I'll loosen up. I'll be more fun. Just...don't tie me up or anything. Like you did when we first met."  
  
"Oh yes. I'm an evil little magician who takes unwilling volunteers, aren't I?" She flashed him a toothy grin, remembering when her mother had brought both him and Mitayo home, sending the children off to play in Faith's room, where she had taken the little boy as a hostage during her magic show.  
  
"Hmm. Yes. Very."  
  
Xavier then succumbed to yet another night of Faith's so-called 'evilness'.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Oriole was gazing out the window, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The twins were in bed and Grayfall was standing just behind her, golden eyes gleaming in the dark. He had a way of doing that; his gaze was that of a cat's, illuminate and a chilly yellow.  
  
"Ready to go to bed?" he asked, yawning into his hand.  
  
"Uh-huh." Oriole turned to face him, tilting her head slowly to the side with a pleased smile. "Today was a good day, wasn't it Gray?"  
  
"Yes," he agreed in that deep, melodious voice of his, the one that he KNEW sounded exactly like his father's. He watched her as she padded back to the bed and lay down. But he didn't follow. Instead, he informed her, "I'm going to check on the girls," and turned to exit the room.  
  
The twins' room was the one beside theirs, and he found the babies sound asleep in their respective cribs. As he did each night, he leaned in and kissed each one on the head, and then, touched the little night light between them to dim its light.  
  
He marveled at their tendency to sleep easily and deeply as he stopped to stare at the easily breathing girls. It wasn't often babies were born with good sleeping habits that coincided with the parents, but, he supposed, both he and Oriole had gotten lucky.  
  
Before he left, he flicked the switch on the moon and stars mobile between their beds, setting it to tinkling and spinning. The tune was very familiar - it was almost the exact duplicate of the Death Song, the last one he had heard. He had stood in that little shop for hours with the music box vender, feeling like an idiot as he hummed the song over and over again until the man had assured him he could reproduce it in a custom-made and VERY expensive trinket. A mobile, at Grayfall's request.  
  
When the twins were older, and when they could understand, he would sit the girls down and turn on the mobile and tell them about his life and how he met Oriole and all that had come after. He would explain the mysteries of the Death Song and answer their questions patiently.  
  
'See?' he would say to them. 'Hear this song? It was in my head before it ever entered yours, and it saved my life as well as others' many a time. It's called the Death Song. And it was a gift from your grandfather'.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Well, the epilogue is done, there's nothing else to write for this story, and I will truly miss all your reviews as well as writing new chapters! Waaaah! *cries* It's just so...sad!! *sniffle* Well, I hope everyone liked this. See ya' guys around. Read some of my other stuff if you're interested!! All suggestions and comments are appreciated. ^_^ 


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